The Point of No Return
by FantasticMisticalWonder
Summary: A simple trip to the opera sparks Eponine's curiosity about the Ghost that lurks there. Curiosity that she hopes will destract her from Marius. And she is VERY desperate to forget him. Eponine/Erik, slight Eponine/Enjolras in the begining.
1. Il Muto

Alrighty! First time writing fics for musicals! I haven't seen Les Miserables, so bear with me, I've just read the book, and I have the 10th anniversary on DVD so most of my info will be coming from that. I have the Phantom movie, so my info will be coming from that as well. Oh, and as a warning to those die hard Marius/Eponine and Erik/Christine shippers, this is going to be an Erik/Eponine fic. Just to warn you. That being said, on with the show!

Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera. That belongs to Leroux and Webber. Les Miserables belongs to Hugo, Boublil, Schonberg, and Kretzmer

* * *

It was a clear night in Paris. The moon was full and the air cool. It was one of those nights where people went to sleep with pleasant dreams and had pleasant moods to match.

All but one.

Crouching in the shadows of an alley, a small, wretched figure crouched, curled in on itself. It was shaking with sobs, crying the tears that can only come from heartache. However, the sound of the clattering of feet made the creature stop it's sobbing, and it raised its head, revealing a feminine face streaked with grime and tears. However, despite her grief, the young woman had bright green eyes, that relayed intelligence and strength. She wiped her tears off of her face and stood up, straightening the cap covering her greasy mud-brown hair. Creeping along the wall, she poked her head around the corner, and saw a group of men making their way stealthily towards a house. The house that the reason for her grief was at.

Her eyes opening wide, she silently cursed underneath her breath, and she began to quickly rack her brains for a way to drive the bandits away. However, so lost in her thoughts was she that she did not notice the figure creeping up behind her. Quickly, the man grabbed the young woman and covered her mouth with his hand, holding her trapped. He carried the struggling girl towards the bandits. Hearing her muffled shrieks, the men turned around and stared at the young girl curiously.

"What 'ave we 'ere?"

"Who is this 'ussy?"

Looking closer at the girl, one of the men scowled and turned to face his comrade.

"It's your brat: Eponine! Why's she hanging about you?" the man demanded.

As soon as he heard the girl's name, the man holding her immediately released his hold. Eponine turned around to glare at her capture before turning to face her father.

"Go on 'ome, Eponine! We're enough 'ere wifout you!" her father hissed.

Placing her hands on her hips, Eponine stood up straight and tossed back her straggly hair as she glared at her father.

"I know this 'ouse, Papa. Only an old man and a girl live 'ere. They got nothin' of value that you'd want." She stated.

Her father scowled down at her. "Don't interfere wif my work, Eponine! Now go on 'ome!"

"Ah, she's goin' soft, Thenardier! 'Appens to all of us." One of the bandits said.

"Listen to your father an' go on 'ome! You're in our way!" another bandit hissed.

"I'll scream! I'll warn them!" Eponine threated, raising her voice.

"Keep it down," one of the bandits hissed.

"Not a sound out of you!" Thenardier said, panic raising his voice.

Eponine narrowed her eyes and slowly backed away from the bandits.

"I told you I'd do it," she growled before balling her fists at her sides and screaming out into the night air. Thenardier rushed over to where his daughter stood and placed his hand over her mouth, his other arm around her arms, preventing her from moving.

"Don't wait around you fools! Make for the sewers! I'll take care of the brat!" Thenardier shouted back at the bandits before hissing in Eponine's ear.

"You just wait, m'girl: you will rue this night. And then you'll be screaming for sure." Thenardier growled looking up suddenly at the sound of someone approaching, and rather roughly releasing Eponine before running off. Eponine stumbled for a moment, but a sudden sense of security overwhelmed her as she felt two strong arms envelope her.

"Eponine! I saw those bandits: your cry scared them off! Once more 'Ponine, you saved the day!" a young man, Monsieur Marius, cried.

Eponine looked up at him and smiled gratefully, but looked over his shoulder as a young woman dressed in fine clothes came running down the road, a worried look on her face.

"Marius! Is everything alright?" the girl asked.

"Cossette!" Marius cried, releasing Eponine and running over to her.

"Cossette, this is my friend, Eponine. She frightened away those bandits and brought me to you! She is to thank for bringing us together." Marius said, smiling down at Cossette.

Cossette smiled back up at him, and Eponine felt something in her heart ache. But Marius' head snapped up, and Eponine could hear the sound of feet on the ground. Eyes wide, Marius gently released Cossette and took Eponine's arm.

"Someone is coming! Eponine, we must not be seen. Cossette, I will see you again: this I promise." Marius said before running off, dragging Eponine behind him.

They ran until they had gone deep into Paris. Eponine recognized the streets as the one by the ABC Café, the favorite meeting place of Marius and his restless friends. Once they had finally stopped running, they both paused a minute to catch their breath. However, it wasn't long before Marius began to laugh joyfully, and he picked up Eponine in his arms and spun her around.

"Oh, Eponine! I cannot thank you enough! Cossette is . . . . words cannot describe her! She is the most beautiful thing on this Earth! I shall never love another like I love her!" Marius cried.

"I am 'appy for you, Monsieur Marius." Eponine said, putting on a false smile.

"Eponine, I will never be able to repay you for what you have done for me this night. Is there anything in this world that you desire? If it is in my power I will give it to you." Marius said.

Eponine gave him a sad smile and looked down. "Nothing that you can give, Monsieur Marius."

"Come now, there must be something! Maybe money, or some food?"

"Being with you is enough, Monsieur." Eponine replied, smiling up at him.

Marius frowned, and he took Eponine's shoulders in his hands and looked her in the eye. "Are you really so friendless, 'Ponine? Are you so lonely that all you really desire is a companion?" he asked.

"Growing up on the streets, 'aving to fight the other children for food makes finding friends a lower priority." Eponine replied bitterly.

Marius frowned and straightened up. "Meet me here tomorrow, we'll have a lot of work to do, getting you cleaned up and finding a decent dress."

"Monsieur, I told you that I don't want no money." Eponine protested.

"I'm not offering you money, Eponine. No, I think I'll take you to the opera."

"The opera, Monsieur?" Eponine asked.

Marius nodded, smiling. "You said that you long for a friend. I am your friend, 'Ponine, and as a friend I would be delighted to treat you to a night at the opera. But we'll have to get you properly dressed for it."

Eponine stared at him. "Monsieur –"

"Ah. Don't try and protest, Eponine. In fact, I've been meaning to go to the opera myself, but one does not go to the opera alone, and Enjolras and Grantaire don't have time for such things, and I don't know Cossette well enough to take her. No, you'll be doing me a favor by coming, 'Ponine. Now, I'll expect to see you here at midday so we can make you presentable." Marius said, smiling at Eponine before walking away.

The street girl stared after him for a second before a sort of wondering smile broke out on her face, and she spun around, laughing.

"A night at the opera! And a real dress! And a whole night with Monsieur Marius!" Eponine sighed. Smiling, she twirled around one last time before running away to find some shelter. She had to be well-rested for tomorrow.

When Eponine finally found a suitable resting place in a ditch, she lay down, and fell asleep thinking how Monsieur Marius would be sure to love her as soon as he saw her in fine clothes, like that Cossette.

* * *

When Eponine woke up, the sun was already a quarter into the sky. Yawning, she stood up and stretched. It was a moment before she remembered what was to happen today, and a smile broke onto her face. Quickly rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, she ran over to the nearest canal, and looked at the water running through it. It was slightly murky, but it was still water. And so she dipped her hands in and splashed the water onto her face, trying to rub off some of the grime. She knew that Monsieur Marius would probably take her to a bathhouse or his own home to get her cleaned up, but she didn't want to be as filthy as she had been when she walked into his home or the bathhouse. So she scrubbed off a good layer of the dirt and sweat off of her arms and legs, and then used her coat to dry herself off. When she was done with her "bath," she then resolved to go and find some food. Poking around in the trash, she found nothing that could be safely eaten, and considered stealing some food. No, she finally decided. Maybe if there was less chance of her getting caught, and maybe if she could hide from the police. But she would be walking abroad with Monsieur Marius, and she had gone long enough without food that she knew how to discipline herself. So, Eponine walked back to where Monsieur Marius had left her, and looking at the sun in the sky, saw that she had a few hours left before he would come to get her. So Eponine sat down, and waited.

Monsieur Marius came when the sun was in the center of the sky, and Eponine jumped up as soon as she saw him. Grinning broadly when he saw her, Marius jogged over to where she was and smiled down at her.

"Hello, 'Ponine. Are you ready?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be, Monsieur Marius." She replied, smiling.

Nodding, Marius took Eponine's arm and gently began leading her through the city.

Monseiur Marius led Eponine to his home, and took her inside and directed her to a freshly drawn bath, where he instructed her to wash herself. As soon as she was alone, she stripped off her rags and coat and sank into the warm water, enjoying the soothing feeling for a moment before beginning to furiously scrub off all of the dirt and grime that covered her. Seeing the assorted bottles and such, she took the various perfumes and added them to the bathwater, a flowery smell emitting from them. Eponine then proceeded to wash her hair as soon as she had gotten most of the grime off of her skin. It was tedious business, as her hair was in need of brushing as well, but she soon could be called clean. She stepped out of the bath and dried herself off with the towel, and then put on the clean maid's clothes that Marius had gotten for her to wear temporarily. After giving her hair a final dry and comb, Eponine stepped out, where Marius was waiting. When he saw her, he smiled broadly.

"I can barely recognize you, 'Ponine! You'll look like a true lady once you're in your dress! I hope you don't mind – it used to belong to my mother, but I'm having some alterations made to it so it will be a bit more modern, and so it will fit you, of course. She was a bit plumper than you were, but the alterations should be done soon. Have you eaten yet?" Marius asked.

Eponine shook her head. "No, Monsieur Marius."

"Well then! Let us go and get you some food! The dress should be a bit longer, anyways." Marius said, offering his arm to Eponine. Feeling happier than she had ever felt in years, Eponine took his arm, and he gently led her out the door and back into the streets of Paris. They walked for a while until they reached the spot where Marius had left Eponine: the ABC Café.

When they entered, Eponine could see Marius' friends, Enjolras and Grantaire sitting at a table, laughing and drinking. Smiling, Marius walked up to them, Eponine following him.

"Enjolras! Grantaire! Isn't it a little early to be getting drunk?" Marius asked.

"Oh, Graintaire is the one drinking. I, however, am enjoying coffee." Enjolras said.

"You're still drinking Enjolras!" Grantaire laughed before seeming to notice Eponine for the first time.

"Oh, have you finally found that girl who mysteriously disappeared then, Marius?" Grantaire asked.

"Oh, yes, I have. But this is not her. This is my friend: Eponine." Marius said, gesturing at the street girl.

Enjolras narrowed his eyes. "You're the Thenardier girl, aren't you?" he asked.

Hesitantly, Eponine nodded.

Enjolras laughed. "Well, I never would have recognized you without all of that filth and those rags!"

"I'll say! I was about to ask Marius if I could borrow her for a little –"

"Really Grantaire, sometimes you surprise me with what you think is appropriate to say in public." Enjolras said, a disapproving frown on his face.

"Oh, like you weren't thinking the same thing!" Grantaire scoffed before winking at Eponine.

Marius chuckled. "'Ponine, why don't you wait here while I get you some food?" Marius suggested before walking off.

Hesitantly, Eponine sat at the table, and Grantaire laughed.

"Really, I was only joking. No need to be so frightened!" Grantaire laughed.

Eponine gave a weak smile, and Enjolras leaned over and looked at her pensively.

"So, what occasion has Marius cleaning you up?" Enjolras asked.

"'e is taking me to the opera tonight." Eponine answered.

"The opera, eh? He's been bugging us to go for a while now. How'd he convince you to go?" Grantaire asked.

"I 'elped 'im find that mystery girl of 'is. 'e is trying to repay me." Eponine replied.

Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "Ah, I see. Honestly, with the way Marius was acting, I think he would have sold his soul to Satan to find that girl."

"Good thing you found him first then, right?" Grantaire laughed.

"Yeah, good thing," Eponine said, looking down and fiddling with her skirt.

At that moment, Marius returned with a bowl of porridge and a cup of tea for Eponine. Sitting down at the table, he passed over the food to the street girl, who had to restrain herself from attacking the food and instead began to eat it in small portions, attempting some manners.

"Look! She can eat properly, too! You must be a miracle worker, Marius. First you turn that wretched street urchin into a pretty lady, and next you teach her to eat! What's next, she learns to read?" Grantaire joked.

"I can read," Eponine snapped, looking up and glaring at Grantaire.

"You can?" Marius asked in surprise.

Eponine nodded. "M'father used to own an inn. Mum and Dad saw no point in me learnin' to read, even though they could. One of the patrons taught me a little, though. I can't read one of 'em long books, but I can get by." Eponine said.

Grantaire chuckled. "Will wonders never cease? You sure you can't lend her to me, Marius? I'd like to see what other surprises she has in store."

"Get your head out of the gutter, Grantaire." Enjolras snapped, slapping his friend on the head.

"I'm done, Monsieur Marius." Eponine said.

Marius nodded. "Good, I think your dress should be ready by now. Come, we'll go get it, and I'll have one of the maids do your hair." Marius said, standing up. Eponine followed in suit, and followed him towards the door.

"Hey! 'Ponine! If you ever need any company on some lonely night, I'd be happy to help!" Grantaire shouted after her.

"Leave the poor girl alone, Grantaire!" Enjolras reprimanded.

Marius chuckled, and looked at Eponine apologetically. "I hope those two didn't bother you too much, 'Ponine."

Eponine shook her head. "Not at all, Monsieur. Monsieur Grantaire made a few suggestive comments, though."

Marius chuckled. "Yes, he tends to do that to any pretty girl he sees."

Eponine smiled, but she couldn't help but dwell on what Marius had said.

_I'm pretty?_

* * *

The cab pulled up to the steps of the Opera House, and Monsieur Marius stepped out. Straightening his coat, he turned back to the cab to help the young woman inside out.

All who saw her would not have known that she was a street urchin unless they talked with her long enough to notice her accent. And if they were observant enough, they would note that she did not carry herself like a dainty lady or a high noble, but instead like a cross between a bird ready for flight and a lion ready to protect its meal. She wore an elegant gown of green that accented her bright emerald eyes and made her auburn hair stand out even more. There was very little decoration hanging on her neck or ears, and not much was done with her hair except a slight curl and being pulled back with a pin.

Eponine didn't even remember that her hair was red. It had been brown from lack of wash and grim for so long that she had forgotten what it had looked like when it was clean. And she didn't realize how pale her skin was! When she had seen her reflection, she was amazed that she was looking at the same girl who had been washing herself in the canal only the same morning. Now she understood why Grantaire had been making all of those suggestive remarks to her. If only Monsieur Marius noticed her as well.

But she took pleasure in the fact that no one was looking at her with distaste and disgust as she got out of the cab. For once, they seemed to accept her! She was no longer the faceless street girl, she was _somebody_!

"Come, 'Ponine! We must get our seats before it fills up!" Marius insisted, pulling Eponine along by the arm.

"What is the opera we will be seein', Monsieur Marius?" Eponine asked.

"It's called Il Muto. The Opera House's star, Carlotta, will be performing. A stroke of luck, I should say, since she stormed out of the Opera House a few days ago, saying something about quitting. Though I hear her replacement – Christine Daae – was quite talented." Marius explained.

"Oh, she was more than talented, believe me." A voice said.

Marius turned around, as did Eponine to see who had addressed them. Standing before them was a young man dressed in wealthy clothes with his brown hair hanging down at his shoulders.

"Good God! Raoul, is that you?" Marius exclaimed.

"It's been far too long Marius." Raoul greeted, walking over and embracing Marius.

"It is good to see you, old friend! How have you fared." Marius asked, standing back to survey Roul.

"I have been well. I am now the sponsor for this Opera House, ever since its previous owner retired to two men who have until recently been in the scrap metal business." Raoul explained.

"I hear you're the Vicomte de Chagny now!" Marius said.

"That I am. My father left me nearly everything in his will." Raoul replied before looking at Eponine curiously.

"And who is this lovely flower? A lady friend?"

Marius chuckled. "No, just a friend I'm afraid. My heart belongs to another. But Eponine hear is to thank for leading me to my love. Which is why I decided to treat her to the opera." Marius said.

"Monsieur," Eponine said, bowing her head to Raoul.

Raoul gave her a small nod in return. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle Eponine. Though I am afraid that this performance will not be the best."

"Oh, and why is that?" Marius asked.

"The two fools who run this theatre keep on getting notes from a mysterious Opera Ghost, otherwise known as the Phantom of the Opera. He demands a salary and that Box Five is to be kept empty for him. The previous owner was happy to humor the Phantom's whims, but the two new owners are a bit too fond of their money, and have decided to spite him by placing Carlotta in the lead role, when he said specifically that Christine was to play Countess. And believe me when I say that Christine would have been better." Raoul said bitterly.

"This Christine: she wouldn't happen to be the same Miss Daae as the one you were friends with as a child, would she?" Marius asked.

"The very same. She's been living under the protection of Madame Giry – the ballet instructor – ever since her father's death." Raoul answered.

"Little Lotte, eh? Well, it's been a treat seeing you again, Raoul, but we really must be getting to our seats. I'll look you up when I have spare time!" Marius said, bowing his head.

Roul nodded. "If you need me, I'll be in Box Five." Raoul said.

"The one the Phantom demands be kept empty?" Marius asked.

"Oh, I don't believe there's really a Phantom: just a man who likes having power." Raoul said before bowing his head in farewell and walking off.

"Come, 'Ponine, we musn't be late!" Marius said, leading Eponine into the theatre. They handed in their tickets and then took their seats in the balcony towards the edge. The theatre was still filling up, and many people were chatting and socializing. However, a general hush fell over the audience as the candles were snuffed out and the conductor entered the stage. Bowing to the audience, he entered the pit and began to conduct. The music was light and happy, and the curtains opened to reveal three actors wearing almost clownish make-up and ridiculously brightly colored clothing. A pretty ballerina entered and bent down like she was listening in on their conversation. The women dressed in pink leaned towards one of her male comrades, and began to sing.

"_They say that this youth has set my lady's heart aflame!"_

"_His lordship sure would die of shock!"_ One of the men sang

"_His lordship is a laughing stock!" _Sang the other.

"_Should he suspect her, God protect her." _Sang the woman.

"_Shame, shame, shame. This faithless lady's bound for Hades. Shame, shame, shame."_ Sang the three.

The curtains opened behind them to reveal another woman wearing the ridiculous clothing and make-up – along with an incredibly tall powdered-wig – kissing an actor dressed as a maid. They broke apart when they heard the audience, and Eponine was surprised to see that the actor looked very feminine indeed.

"My God, it's Christine Daae!" Marius exclaimed.

"That really is a woman then, Monsieur?" Eponine whispered.

"Yes, indeed. Traditionally the page-boy is played by a woman." Marius whispered back.

Eponine nodded and returned her attention back to the stage, where a portly man also wearing the extreme make-up had entered, accompanied by a rather small man dressed just like him. The portly man and the woman in the head-dress were currently singing just pure notes, holding the other's hand and doing a sort of dance in a circle. The man then left, and the woman in the head-dress turned to face the "maid," who had proceeded to tear off the skirt to reveal a page-boy's uniform.

"_Serafimo, away with this pretense! You cannot speak, but kiss me in my husband's absence." _The woman sang, holding up her fan in front of her face as she and the page-boy kissed.

"_Poor fool, he makes me laugh, hahahaha! Hahahahahahahahahahahaha! Time I tried to get a better half!"_ the woman sang.

"_Poor fool, he doesn't know, hohohoho! ! If he knew the truth he'd never ever go!" _the woman and the three observers sang. The opened their mouths to continue with the song, but they were cut off by an ominous voice filling the theatre.

"**DID I NOT INSTRUCT THAT BOX FIVE WAS TO BE KEPT EMPTY?" **the voice rang out.

Eponine's head shot up, and she saw a figure clothed in black standing in the balcony above the stage, shielded by the chandelier. Squinting, Eponine craned her neck to try and get a better look at him, but to no avail.

"Monsieur Marius, there is someone up there!" Eponine said urgently.

"Your part is silent little toad!" the woman in the head-dress snapped. Eponine jumped, but saw that she was speaking to – what was the actress' name again? – Christine Daae, who must have spoken.

"Do not worry, 'Ponine. You are just seeing things," Marius assured her.

Eponine nodded, and when she looked back up at the balcony, the figure was gone.

Meanwhile, the Countess had gone over to the side to have some sort of liquid sprayed in her mouth before going back to center stage and telling the conductor to continue with the song.

"_Serafimo, away with this pretense! You cannot speak, but kiss me in my huUUGH!" _the Countess croaked, her eyes widening in surprise. Everyone in the audience gasped, but Eponine couldn't help but let out a little giggle. That, of course, led everyone else to laugh as well.

"_Poor fool he makes me laugh, hahahaha! Haha – UGH! UGH!" _the woman croaked, seeming unable to sing properly, only the frog-like sounds coming from her throat now. The audience broke into rapturous laughter, and the woman began to scream and cry, running off stage. The curtains were quickly closed, and only one actor was left in front of them, and he quickly ran off stage. Two men then entered, looking quite flustered.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize! The performance will continue in ten minutes time . . . when the role of the Countess will be played by Miss Daae!" the taller man announced, the shorter one grabbing the actress playing the page-boy from off stage, the audience applauding as soon as they saw her.

"Thank you!" the man said before ushering Christine off stage and turning back to the audience.

"Until then, we would crave your indulgence for a few moments." The tall man said.

"Meanwhile, we'd like to give you the ballet from Act Three of tonight's opera." The shorter man squeaked.

"What?" the conductor asked.

"Maestro . . . the-the-the um, the ballet, bring it forward, please." The short man stuttered.

"Thank you!" the tall man shouted before exiting the stage with his companion. The curtains then opened to reveal the dancers, sheep and flowery swings on the stage.

"The performance should improve now, right, Monsieur Marius?" Eponine asked.

"Pardon?" Marius asked.

"The Vicomte de Chagny, 'e said that Miss Daae was a better singer than that Carlotta, 'e did." Eponine said.

"Oh, that he did. Her father was a famous violinist, you know." Marius said.

"Really?" Eponine asked.

Marius nodded. "Yes. Tragically died a few years ago, though. Interesting story, that . . ." Marius began, but Eponine was no longer listening. Her eyes were on the ballet. Not because she was captivated by the dancers, but there were odd shadows on the stage. Shadows that were not coming from the dancers. There were two of them: one portly and clumsy, the other thin, tall, and agile. The taller shadow was chasing the portly one, and Eponine was sure that the tall shadow belonged to the man who was standing in the balcony.

"The Phantom of the Opera," Eponine gasped.

"What was that, 'Ponine?" Marius asked.

"Nothing, Monsieur Marius." Eponine said quickly. He would just dismiss it as her seeing things again. And maybe she was. Perhaps those shadows were just a trick of the light . . .

And then it fell down. A man. Eponine gasped, waiting for when he would hit the stage, but the rope around his neck caught him, and he began to jerk violently on it. The panic was immediate. People were screaming and the dancers fled. Finally, the man on the rope was still, and he fell onto the stage, dead. And Eponine recognized his figure. He was the portly man who was being chased by the thin one. The Phantom.

"Good God!" Marius exclaimed, standing up.

"Someone! Get a doctor for him! Get a doctor!" Marius shouted.

"Monsieur Marius! 'e is dead!" Eponine cried, standing up and facing him.

Marius stared at her, and back at the stage. Finally he turned back to her.

"I am sorry, 'Ponine, this was not what I had in mind. Come, let us leave." Marius said, taking Eponine's arm and leading her towards the exit, despite the two men's attempts to calm the audience.

As they waited on the snowy streets of Paris for Marius to catch a cab, Eponine turned her gaze back to the Opera House, and she ran her eyes over the beautiful marble sculptures, her eyes tracing its splendor all the way from the bottom to the top . . .

. . . and her eyes stopped the moment she reached the top. For, she could have sworn that she saw a dark figure lurking there.

* * *

Sooo, what do you think? I've never actually seen Les Mis, so forgive me if the beginning with the attack of Rue de Plumet was off. I'm just going by my CD and DVD of the Tenth Anniversary here. And no, this is not a one-shot. It will be a multi-chapter fic. Eponine's always been my favorite from Les Mis, and thought when I was re-watching Phantom the other day "Hey, you know what, that Phantom dude is pretty awesome. Plus, he's kinda like Eponine in that he's caught in an impossible love triangle . . . hey! They could totally get together!" And so I thought to write a crossover. I'm not sure, but I think this may be one of the longest fics I will ever write, because I sort of have an idea of how this story will progress, and just to warn you, with the way I'm thinking of it, it is going to be milked out. Or maybe I'll get really impatient and it'll go by super-fast. Who knows? Depends on how I feel about it. And I don't know if every chapter will be as long as this one, as it is the first chapter, and setting up the plot can potentially take a long time. So, yeah, that's about it. Review!

~FantasticMisticalWonder


	2. Castle on a Cloud

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The Phantom of the Opera belongs to Leroux and Webber. Les Miserables belongs to Hugo, Boublil, Schonberg, and Kretzmer

* * *

A few days had passed when Eponine saw Marius and his university friends meeting at the ABC Café. Curious, and anxious to see Marius again, Eponine entered the café, and tried her best to ignore the accusing stares that some of the patrons were sending her. She was known for being one of the more wily street urchins, and people tended to suspect her of most of the thievery that occurred. Which, some of it was indeed her fault, but most of it was her brother, Gavroche, and her father and his gang.

Walking over to where Marius was sitting, she smiled brightly at him.

"Ello, Monsieur Marius." She said.

Looking up, Marius smiled at her. "Hello 'Ponine. I'm terribly sorry for how the opera went. That certainly wasn't what I had in mind when I invited you." He apologized.

Eponine shrugged. "It 'appens, Monsieur. You could not 'ave known."

"Well, looky here. It's the pretty little street girl! My offer still stands, you know." Grantaire said, looking up at her and smiling.

"Honestly, Grantaire. Barely the afternoon and already you're accosting girls you barely know." Enjolras reprimanded.

"Marius knows her, and I know Marius. So, we know each other by association. Good enough for me." Grantaire said.

"What did happen at the opera, Eponine? Marius here keeps on lamenting about it like someone died." Enjolras asked.

"Someone did, Monsieur." Eponine replied.

Enjolras raised his eyebrows. "Really? How did that happen?"

"A tragic accident, I believe. He was one of the scene setters. Got tangled in some ropes and fell, hung himself." Marius answered.

Eponine had to restrain herself from mentioning that she believed that he was being chased.

"That's a shame. Though, how do you know it was an accident, Marius? Maybe it was that mysterious Phantom of the Opera." Grantaire joked.

"I'm not sure about that, Grantaire, but there was some mysterious voice that interrupted the opera." Marius said.

Grantaire laughed. "I think we must start to question your sanity, Marius! First you're seeing ghost women, and now you're hearing voices!"

"I could hear it too, Monsieurs. It said something about it instructing that Box Five should 'ave been kept empty." Eponine said.

"Isn't Box Five supposed to be reserved for the Opera Ghost? Was his spirit disturbed because someone was sitting in it?" Grantaire joked.

"I don't know about a ghost, but someone was upset about Box Five being occupied." Marius said.

"Enough talk of ghosts and goblins! We have a revolution on our hands!" Enjolras shouted.

And so they spent the rest of the time at the Café talking of the upcoming revolution. Or, the men did. Eponine mostly just stood back and listened. Not that she wasn't interested in the freeing of the people, but she felt that she had best leave the plans of barricades and battle to those who knew more of what to do. After all, they were university students and had read about battles and such. She was just a street girl who had to struggle to find food, much less afford school.

When the meeting was over, Eponine left the café, her hands in her pockets, only stopping when she heard her name being called. Turning around, she saw – to her delight – Marius running after her.

"What is it, Monsieur Marius?" Eponine asked.

"Ponine, I am terribly sorry for what happened at the opera –"

"Monsieur, I believe that you 'ave apologized enough for that. It is not your fault." Eponine cut him off, smiling.

"Still, I cannot help but feel that you have been cheated. You cannot possibly know the joy you have granted me by bringing me to Cossette. I have seen her every night since, and I feel that I have never been more in love. Here," Marius said, handing Eponine a small slip of paper.

"I could not spare enough to buy two more tickets, but here is one for you, should you wish to go again." Marius said before turning and walking away.

Eponine stared after him, and she felt tears begin to course down her face. Looking down at the ticket in her hand, she crinkled it and stuffed it in her pocket. He was blind if he thought she wanted to go to the opera! She didn't care about it! The only thing she cared about in this world was him, and he barely gave her a second glance! It was always "Cossette this" and "Cossette that." Could he not see her feelings for him? Was that why he so cruelly only ever mentioned her name?

Wiping the tears from her face with her sleeve, she turned and walked away, not really noticing where she was walking. She finally stopped when she saw that the stones she were walking on were more finely cared for than the ones by the ABC Café. Looking up, she saw that she was in front of the opera house. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out the crumpled ticket and opened it.

"You've got a ticket, eh? Lord, what I'd give to see one of those operas. Never had the money meself. But I'd love to see one of em." A voice said.

Turning around, Eponine saw an elderly woman standing in front of the house, her shawl wrapped tightly around her and looking at Eponine envyingly.

"Do . . . do you want my ticket, Madame? I do not feel like goin' tonight." Eponine asked, holding out the ticket to the woman.

The old crone stared at Eponine in surprise. "You'd be willin' to give your ticket to me?" she asked.

Eponine nodded.

The old woman hesitantly took the ticket between her thumb and forefinger, and Eponine released it.

"Thank you child. Here, I'll give you ten franks for your troubles." The crone said, putting the coins into Eponine's hand.

The street girl stared at the woman in surprise. "Madame, you don't –"

"Don't argue with me. I know you could use the money. Don't waste it all. Take care of yourself, dearie." The woman said before walking away.

Eponine stared after her, and then turned to look at the coins in her hand. Ten franks. She could easily buy herself some food for at least a week with that! Maybe a few days if she wanted to share with Gavroche!

Quickly pocketing the money, she turned to leave when she suddenly turned around to look back at the opera house. She felt like someone was watching her. Squinting, she saw a sign on the door. Some of the words were alien to her, but she could make out that the sign was advertising spots open in the chorus. It was an ad for auditions! Frowning, Eponine stared pensively at the sign. Being part of the chorus meant having a place to stay in the dorms, a hot meal every day, and a salary. All you needed to know was how to dance and sing, and she had some experience in those areas. She wasn't extraordinary, but she had done a bit of performing on the streets a few times to earn some money.

Looking down at her rags, she frowned. They wouldn't even let her into the theatre if she was dressed like she was now. Remembering the ten franks in her pocket, she thought for a moment. She could buy a decent dress for ten franks. Nothing fancy, but at least it would be clean and in one piece.

But what if she didn't make the audition? Then she would have wasted all of her money! She could always sell the dress, but only for a fraction of its real worth.

Sighing, Eponine was about to turn away when she once more felt the prickle of eyes watching her. Turning sharply, she looked up at the roof, and felt a chill shiver down her spine. She still remembered seeing the figure on the roof the night of Il Muto. The Phantom of the Opera. She'd known she'd seen him after his interruption, and she was sure that it was he who killed that man. Remembering Marius' dismissal of her suspicions, she felt a sharp pain in her heart. He could never love her the way she loved him. His heart belonged to that Cossette. Cossette, who had beauty, health, and enough money for a home. Blinking away tears, Eponine squinted at the opera house. It was obvious that helping Marius would be too painful for her. But she couldn't simply forget about him. No, she needed a distraction.

Having made her decision and seeing an older woman walking out of the opera house, Eponine ran after her.

"Madame! Excuse me, Madame!" Eponine called.

The woman turned around and looked at her. "I am sorry, but I have no money I can spare." She said.

"I do not want money, Madame. I was only wonderin' when the auditions were." Eponine inquired.

"The auditions?" the woman repeated.

"For the chorus, Madame." Eponine elaborated.

"Oh?" the woman asked.

"I saw a sign on the door for them, Madame." Eponine explained.

"Oh, that sign should have been taken down days ago." The woman said, frowning.

Eponine felt her heart sink. "Oh, my mistake, Madame." She said before turning around and walking away.

"There still is more room for one more member, though." The woman called.

Eponine turned around. "Madame?" she asked.

"I am the ballet instructor, if I believe that you will add to the chorus, then you will be part of it." The woman said.

"You would let me audition?" Eponine asked.

"I am afraid there is no time for a proper audition. If you do not join immediately, then you will be too far behind for the next opera." The woman explained.

Eponine's face fell. "Oh, I understand, Madame."

"So you must audition now." The woman said.

Eponine looked up. "Pardon?"

"Sing and dance for me, girl, and I will see if you have a future in the chorus." The woman said.

Eponine blinked. "Now, Madame?"

"Yes, child, now." She said.

Eponine nodded and looked down, frowning. What should she sing? What should she dance? Which should she do first?

"You may sing first. Dancing first will leave you too out of breath." The woman said, almost as if she had read Eponine's thoughts.

Eponine nodded. She didn't think any of the bar songs her father had sung when they had owned their inn would be appropriate. But, there was that little song that servant girl would sing. Maybe that would do.

Standing up straight, Eponine hesitantly opened her mouth and began to sing.

"_There is a castle on a cloud_

_I like to go there in my sleep_

_Aren't any floors for me to sweep_

_Not in my castle on a cloud_

_There is room that's full of toys_

_There are a hundred boys and girls_

_Nobody shouts or talks too loud_

_Not in my castle on a cloud_

_There is a lady all in white_

_Hold me and sings a lullaby_

_She's nice to see_

_And she's soft to touch_

_She says 'Ponine,_

_I love you very much'_

_I know a place where no one's lost_

_I know a place where no one cries_

_Crying at all is not allowed_

_Not in my castle on a cloud." _

The woman nodded. "Now dance,"

Eponine nodded and looked down. She didn't know any formal dances. Just doing what she had thought felt right to the music. There had been a street musician playing only a few days ago. Closing her eyes, she quickly recalled the quick and joyful tune he had been playing on his guitar, and began to quickly move her feet to it. Twirling and kicking, she danced in what she hoped was an adequate fashion. After a little while, she slowed to a stop, panting, her breath visible in the winter air. The woman had been watching her intently, slowly nodding.

"Your voice is a bit rough, and your dancing fairly clumsy." She finally said.

Nodding, Eponine looked down.

"However, you seem to at least know how to carry a tune, and with a bit of training I do believe that you could have quite the pretty voice. And you seem to at least be quick on your feet, and quite agile as well. You have to potential to be a good singer and dancer." The woman added.

Eponine looked up, and nodded.

"Come with me," the woman said, gesturing for her to enter the theatre. Hesitantly, Eponine followed her, and felt immensely out of place in the grand opera house. The woman led Eponine to the backstage area, where many young girls were practicing dancing. The woman walked up to a pretty girl with blonde hair, and pulled her away from the rest.

"This is my daughter, Meg. She will test you on how fast you can pick up choreography. Meg, tell me how she does." The woman said before walking away.

The blonde girl nodded and smiled in a friendly way at Eponine.

"Hello. As my mother said, my name's Meg. What's yours?" she asked.

"Eponine," the street girl answered.

Meg nodded. "Well, I'm going to show you some dances, and I want you to copy me. Simple enough. Now, just watch closely . . ."

Meg showed Eponine a number of dances, starting off with fairly simple ones. Slowly, they got more complex and difficult, and Eponine did her best to copy them. After they had gone through quite a few dances, Meg stopped, nodding.

"Good job. You seem to pick up on things fairly quickly. I'll go and tell my mother. Wait here." Meg said before running off.

Eponine watched her leave and surveyed her surroundings. Things weren't nearly as grand backstage as they were in front of it. It was mostly made up of ropes, wooden beams, and costumes and props lying everywhere. Squinting, she looked up at the rafters above the stage. That was where the man would have been before he fell. There were quite a lot of ropes up there . . . he could have just fallen on accident. But she had briefly seen the rope around his neck before he fell, and even from a distance she could tell that it was distinctively a noose. Not just a random piece of rope caught around his neck. No, it was meant to strangle him.

"Meg tells me you are a fast learner." The woman said, walking up to her.

Eponine nodded. "I try, Madame."

"That is a good trait for a beginner to have. You can't improve if you can't learn." The woman said, walking up to her.

"My name is Madame Giry." She said.

Eponine bowed her head. "Eponine, Madame."

Madame Giry nodded. "I suggest you have Meg show you where your dorm is, Eponine. Rehearsal starts in an hour, and I think you should be properly bathed and dressed for it." She said curtly before walking away.

Eponine stared after her, and slowly, a smile broke out onto her face. A job! She actually had a job now! She could earn money for herself, she would actually have a meal every day!

That large smile on her face, Eponine ran to find Meg, already having forgotten Marius.

Hidden in the shadows, a dark clad figure – save the porcelain mask on his face – watched the street girl in mild interest.

"What have we here?" the Phantom wondered.

* * *

Okay, this chapter was probably half the size of the previous one, but I seriously could not see another way to continue on without starting another chapter. So, yeah. Review!

~FantasticMisticalWonder


	3. Angel of Music

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. The Phantom of the Opera belongs to Leroux and Webber. Les Miserables belongs to Hugo, Boublil, Schonberg, and Kretzmer

* * *

Rehearsal had been much more extraneous than Eponine had thought it would be. She had picked up on the dances fairly quickly, but she found them asking her to bend in ways she didn't know the human body could bend. She was running and jumping around, and when it was finally time to stop for break, Eponine felt sore all over.

"Sore?" Meg asked, coming over to sit by the street girl.

Eponine nodded, grimacing as she massaged her legs.

Meg chuckled. "Don't worry, you'll get used to it after a while. You haven't been doing this for years like the rest of us have. But if it's any consolation, you're doing a lot better than most newcomers do."

"Thank you," Eponine said gratefully, gently stretching her arms and wincing.

"Meg!" a voice called.

The two girls turned around, and Eponine saw the young woman who had been playing the page-boy in Il Muto running towards them.

"Hello Christine! How are you?" Meg asked, smiling and standing up.

"I'm doing fine, Meg. Who's this?" Christine asked, looking at Eponine curiously.

"Christine, this is Eponine. She just joined the chorus. Eponine, this is Christine." Meg said.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Eponine." Christine said, smiling pleasantly.

"Likewise, Mademoiselle." Eponine replied, bowing her head.

"Please, just Christine." Christine said, smiling at Eponine.

Eponine nodded and winced again as she continued to massage her aching legs.

"You haven't had much experience in dancing, have you?' Christine asked, smiling.

"Until now, Mademoiselle, the only dancin' I 'ad done was for fun and whatever money people could spare on the streets. Nothin' like this." Eponine said.

Christine frowned. "You live on the streets?"

Eponine nodded.

"Stroke of luck, you getting a part in the chorus then, isn't it?" Christine asked.

"A blessin', Mademoiselle." Eponine corrected.

Christine smiled. "Well, I'm sure you'll do splendidly. Now, if you don't mind, I have to get back." She said, running off towards the stage.

"Does she normally play the larger parts?" Eponine asked after a while.

"Oh, not until only a few weeks ago. I don't know if you heard, but after an accident with one of the backdrops, Carlotta quit the production of Hannibal, and my mother suggested Christine as her replacement. Until then she had just been a chorus girl." Meg explained.

"Now _that_ must have been a stroke of luck," Eponine said, smiling.

Meg nodded her head. "And what's really strange was that when she first started, she was good, but not Prima Donna good. And now she's even better than Carlotta!" Meg exclaimed.

"She must 'ave gotten better with practice, then." Eponine reasoned.

Meg shook her head. "No, Christine told me she's had a teacher." Meg whispered.

"A teacher?" Eponine asked.

Meg shook her head. "She doesn't know his name, but he calls himself 'the Angel of Music.'" Meg said.

Eponine frowned, an uneasy feeling in her stomach. "The Angel of Music? Literally or metaphorically?" she asked.

"Christine believes it to be literally. She told me that she could feel him whenever she sings." Meg said excitedly.

Eponine frowned, and then winced when she heard the shrieking of Carlotta singing. She had only been there a little over an hour, and already she wished that the maids would lend her some of their earplugs. She was surprised that the chandelier didn't crash down with some of the notes that woman hit.

"Perhaps this angel should visit La Carlotta." Eponine winced, massaging her temples.

Meg laughed. "Indeed, though I think she could scare even an angel away!" she said before whipping her head around, her blonde tresses flying.

"Oh, looks like we're back on. Come on, 'Ponine." Meg said, standing up.

"Let's 'ope I can feel my legs by the end of the day," Eponine grumbled before standing up and walking slowly back over to the stage.

* * *

Back down in his lair, the Phantom was hard at work on his organ. The music was fast and passionate, but it suddenly stopped, and he growled. Slamming his fist down on the keys, key took his quill and furiously scratched out some notes on the sheet music.

"Blast it, that won't work at all!" He growled, frowning at the keys. Starting up the tune again, he began to play, and continued until the end of the piece. Satisfied, he took up a new piece of sheet music and wrote down the improved score. Placing the paper inside the leather-bound manuscript, he stood up and stretched. He had been sitting at that organ for almost an hour, and he normally made a habit of at least getting up every once in a while to make sure that he hadn't been sitting down for too long. He was no idiot, and he tried to keep himself in a semi-healthy condition, despite his disfigurement.

Walking over to his desk, he sifted through the multitude of papers, and stopped when he came upon a sketch of a young woman. Long curled black tresses, a beautiful heart-shaped face, and alabaster skin. Christine. His eyes softened for a second before hardening. Damn that Vicomte de Chagny. Damn them both and those silly little vows they had made to each other on that roof. She belonged to _him_. Did she not see that? After all, he had given her _everything_, it was only fit that she gave him her love in return. But soon, soon she would see that he loved her more than that insolent suitor, and realize who she truly belonged to.

Rubbing his forehead, he strode over to the boat. He should go check on rehearsals again. They had a new chorus girl – a street gamine, from the sound of her horrid accent. Really, something would have to be done about that. No one would be able to pay attention to the rest of the opera if she was singing in that scratchy voice with that dialect of hers. Really, did those two fools Andre and Firmin have any concept of the word standards? Shaking his head, the Phantom stepped onto the boat and began to push it through the lake. When he came to the way that would lead to Christine's dressing room, he went in the other direction. There were hundreds of passages through the Opera House, and he didn't want to risk being seen. Finally stopping, he climbed out and began to ascend the staircase, until he reached a small doorway. Stealthily he made his way into the candlelit back-stage area. He slunk around the curtains until he could get a good view of the rehearsal at hand, whilst remaining concealed. He couldn't help but feel a bit of satisfaction. He had not been able to use this hiding spot ever since that troublesome Joseph Buquet had started becoming wiser to his existence. Now that that fool was out of the way, things should be considerably easier for him.

Frowning, the Phantom watched the new girl dance next the Giry girl, and his frown increased when he noticed her stumble during the moves. Not only was she a God-awful singer, but she was clumsy too! What on earth had allowed her into his Opera House? She probably didn't even comprehend what art was going on around her.

Shaking his head, the Phantom turned his head to look at Christine, and his eyes softened. She was doing perfectly, as always. He took special satisfaction in seeing the naked jealousy on La Carlotta's face. Smirking, he was about to turn to go back down to his lair when he heard those two fools Andre and Firmin stop the rehearsal. Sniffing, the Phantom turned and glared at the managers. When would they learn that they had no place in his Opera House?

"Ladies and gentlemen, please excuse our interruption. We would like, however, to remind you that the New Year's Masquerade is approaching. We hope to see you all there, dressed for the occasion, of course. That being said, on with the show, or, rehearsal, as it is!" Firmin chuckled before turning and walking away.

A smile worked its way onto the Phantom's face. Ah, yes, the masquerade. He looked pensively down at the rehearsal. He thought it was about time that he let them know that he hadn't died or disappeared. And _Don Juan Triumphant_ was almost done anyways . . . that would be the opportune time to present his opera to them.

Smiling, the Phantom retreated back into the shadows, and to his lair.

* * *

"Are you excited about the masquerade, 'Ponine?" Meg asked when they had reached the dorms.

"I've never been to a party before; I don't think I'd know how to act." Eponine admitted.

Meg giggled. "Don't you worry, you'll be fine! The real issue is whether or not you have a dress."

"'Fraid not. I live on the streets – or used to – remember?" Eponine asked.

"I'm sure that you can use one of the costumes. Don't worry, we'll find something." Meg assured her.

"I'm not wearing anything from Il Muto. 'Aving 'earts an' music notes painted on m'skin isn't m'style." Eponine grumbled.

Meg laughed. "Don't worry, 'Ponine. There's plenty other operas to choose from."

"Nothin' from 'Annibal, either. I'm not dressin' up like a slave girl." Eponine added.

"Don't worry, we'll find something." Meg insisted, smiling.

At that moment, Madame Giry entered the dorm.

"All right, girls. Get yourselves cleaned up and get to bed. You'll need your rest for tomorrow." She said.

Eponine looked at Meg in confusion. "But I already bathed today," she said,

"You're not used to it, since you've lived on the streets for so long, but we often bathe at least twice a day – in the morning to wake ourselves up, and after rehearsal to wash away the sweat." Meg explained.

"Won't you get sick from bathin' so much?" Eponine asked.

Meg laughed. "I don't think that will be an issue."

Eponine frowned, but bathed again that night anyways, and after dressing in her night-clothes – really, having separate clothes for when you were sleeping? She was sure they never did anything like that when her father had owned the inn, had they? – she lay down on her soft bed.

* * *

Eponine wasn't sure what it was that woke her up. Maybe it was the fact that she was so unused to sleeping on such a soft mattress. Whatever it was, she was awake, and she blinked a bit before wiggling and trying to fall asleep again.

That was when she heard it.

Her eyes cracking open, Eponine sat up and brushed her hair away from her ears. Yes, that was music she was hearing. But she was sleeping an Opera House, after all, there was bound to be someone practicing.

But the closer she listened, the more she doubted that it was any of the Orchestra members. No, the tune was mournful and beautiful – tragic and lovely. Intrigued, Eponine slid out of her bed and wrapped a thing robe around her slight frame. Not bothering with shoes, she snuck out of the dorms and looked down the corridors. Satisfied that no one would see her, she quietly made her way through the halls until she came to the main stage. The music was a little louder here. Following the sound to the main star's dressing room, she gently opened the door and peaked her head in. That was strange, no one was here. But the music seemed to be coming through the far wall! Squinting her eyes, she made her way to it. There was a rather large mirror on the wall, and Eponine gently put her hand on it. Frowning, she gently pushed on it and slid her hand to the right. The mirror moved!

Excited, Eponine put her hand on the edge of the mirror and opened it a little wider, allowing room for her to walk past it. The hall beyond it was dark, and the floor was damp, but she was used to it. Looking back, she could see that the mirror was one-way – Whoever stood on this side could look in on the dressing room. That was a little creepy . . .

Turning her attention to the tunnel in front of her, she hesitantly began to walk through it. Something wasn't right, she could feel it. But she didn't know what.

Stopping, Eponine frowned. _Now_ she knew what was wrong – the music had stopped . . .

Feeling rising fear in her stomach, she began to back towards the mirror, but she was stopped as she bumped into something.

Slowly turning around, Eponine saw a wall of black before it disappeared with a swishing noise. However, her confusion was short-lived as she felt the thing reappear behind her, one gloved hand hold her neck and the other her arm behind her back. Eponine winced as he bend it in a way she was sure it was not supposed to bend.

"Who are you?" the man hissed.

"Please, Monsieur, I mean you no 'arm." Eponine gasped.

"What are you doing here then? Who told you about this passage?" the man demanded.

"No one, Monsieur," Eponine replied, crying out as he bent her arm a little harder.

"Don't lie to me," the man hissed.

"I'm not, Monsieur! I 'eard music and I followed it 'ere." Eponine insisted.

The man was silent for a second, and he gently lowered her arm, much to her relief.

"You're that new chorus girl, aren't you? I can tell by your accent." The man said.

"Yes, Monsieur. I just came 'ere today." Eponine answered.

"What is your name?" the man asked.

"Eponine Thenardier," she quickly answered.

"Tell me, Miss Thenardier, are you afraid of me?" the man inquired.

Eponine gulped. "Yes, Monsieur."

"And why is that?"

"Because you're holdin' me by the throat, an' I don't know who you are or what kind of man you are. So I can't make any assumptions 'bout what it is you're goin' to do with me." Eponine said.

"You just said that you don't know what kind of man I am: for all you know I could just like scaring people, and I won't actually hurt you." The man reasoned.

"Yes, and for all I know you could really be the kind of person who likes to hurt people, or worse. Like I said, Monsieur, I'm in no position to make assumptions. An' that scares me."

The man was silent for a second, and Eponine was afraid that she'd offended him. It was a while before he spoke again.

"You're smart, for a street girl." He finally said.

"I 'ave to be to survive, Monsieur." Eponine replied.

"Yes, I suppose so," the man murmured.

The man was silent after that, and Eponine felt uneasiness creep over her as she waited for him to speak. Finally deciding that she would have to speak first, Eponine opened her mouth.

"Monsieur, since I'm in no position to make assumptions, what are you goin' to do with me?" Eponine asked hesitantly.

The man was silent, and Eponine felt fear creep up on her again, until he rather roughly pushed her forward, letting her go. She fell to the wet ground with a thump, and looked back at the man in confusion. He was all clothed in black, but she could make out his ghostly white mask.

"If you tell anyone about this place, or if I find you here again, I won't be so charitable." The man snarled before turning and disappearing into the shadows.

Eponine lay on the ground for a moment, her eyes still wide before slowly getting to her feet and walking back towards the one-way mirror.

* * *

Ta-da! They finally meet! Sorry again for the shortness of the chapter. I'll try to make them a little longer in the future. Normally, I like my chapters to be at least 3,000 words or so, and this one was only about 2,650. Still pretty long, but not as long as I usually like. I'll try and update ASAP! Any questions, review or PM me!

~FantasticMisticalWonder

p.s. I've uploaded some Erik/Eponine manips onto my Deviantart account. You can find the link on my profile if you're interested.


	4. The ABC Cafe

Disclaimer: I own zilch. Got it? Phantom is the property of Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber. Les Miz belongs to Victor Hugo, Boublil, Schonberg, and Kretzmer. And I guess Cameron Makintosh as well. But the point is, I OWN NOTHING!

* * *

Eponine found herself unable to fall asleep after her encounter with the Opera Ghost, and instead just lay in her too-soft bed, her eyes wide and her mind racing. She was certain that the masked man was the one she had seen in the balcony. He was the owner of the shadow that was chasing Joseph Buquet. But why did he have a passage that led to the Prima Donna's dressing room? Normally Carlotta used that room . . .

Eponine sat up, her eyes wide with excitement. But Christine used that dressing room as well! She had used it during Hannibal, and during Il Muto as well! The Opera Ghost and Christine's Angel of Music were one!

Lying back down on her bed, Eponine smiled. She never knew that discovering things like this could be so . . . _exciting_! She found that she was immensely proud of herself for figuring out the conundrum of the Phantom of the Opera and the Angel of Music. Well, at least partially figured it out. Marius would be so proud of her . . .

With a start, Eponine realized that she had not thought of Monsieur Marius at all that day! Not with having to concentrate on the extraneous rehearsals, the exhilaration of meeting the Phantom and the excitement of revealing one of his many identities. Normally, Marius had been the only thing on her mind, but with all that was going on . . .

Eponine smiled. She had been trying to forget about Marius due to his infatuation with Cossette, and it seemed that she had found a way! She knew that rehearsals alone would not be enough to keep Marius off her mind for long, as she would soon be getting used to how physically exerting it would be, but surely unmasking the phantom would keep her mind occupied.

Smiling, Eponine snuggled into soft sheets that suddenly seemed much warmer. How would it feel, she wondered, to not constantly have your heart ache?

* * *

Morning came too early for Eponine, and she groaned as Madame Giry came to wake up the girls. Sighing, Eponine sat up and swung her legs to the side of the bed, hopping off.

"How did you sleep?" Meg asked, coming up to her.

"Not very well. 'm not used to such a soft bed, y'know?" Eponine asked.

"Soft? These beds are hard as stone!" Meg exclaimed.

"To you, maybe, but I'm used to sleepin' on the ground." Eponine pointed out.

"I never thought of it that way before." Meg mused.

Eponine shrugged. "It all depends on perspective." She said.

Meg laughed. "That it does. Now, come on! We need to bathe and get dressed for rehearsal."

Eponine groaned. "What are they goin' to make us do today? Stick our feet be'ind our heads?"

Meg laughed.

After they had bathed and clothed themselves, Meg and Eponine made their way downstairs for a quick breakfast. Or, what Meg called quick. Eponine had never had so much to eat in her life! It was just porridge and fruit, but to someone who had gone for days without eating like Eponine, it was a feast.

After they had eaten, they made their way to the stage, where they went through some warm-ups before going through the choreography of the dance.

"After rehearsal, we'll go to the costume department and get you a dress for the Masquerade." Meg whispered to Eponine.

Nodding her head in thanks, Eponine concentrated on the dance, though she couldn't help but feel that someone was watching her. Looking out of the corner of her eye, she searched the rafters and shadows, but saw nothing. Still uneasy, but deciding to pursue the matter no further, she once more put all of her attention on the steps of the dance. It was relatively simple, and Eponine found that she could follow the steps easily. She wasn't nearly as graceful as the other ballerinas, and she stuck out like a sore thumb, but she knew that in time she would get better. However, she could still not shake that feeling that someone was watching her!

Eponine furrowed her brow and concentrated even harder on the dance, trying her hardest to keep up with the advanced ballerinas. But that prickling feeling on the back of her neck was bothering her.

She didn't know for how long she was battling exhaustion, concentration, and paranoia at the same time, but Eponine was relieved when it was finally time for break. Sighing in relief, Eponine sat down and rubbed her legs. She hadn't noticed how much they were aching, what with how hard she was trying to ignore the feeling of eyes on her.

Meg walked gracefully over to Eponine and sat down next to her. "You were wonderful during rehearsal, Eponine. I don't think any of the other dancers are half as dedicated as you were."

Eponine faked a smile. "Just tryin' to catch up, y'know? I don' want to stick out for too long."

Meg smiled. "Well, if you're as dedicated as you were today for the rest of the rehearsals, you'll catch up in no time."

"Thank you," Eponine said, nodding her head gratefully as she continued to massage her legs. She could still feel those eyes on her. She would go mad if she had to deal with the sensation of being watched by a shadow for the rest of the day!

Eponine's eyes widened slightly, not enough to alarm the nearby Meg. Being watched by a shadow . . . it was him! The Phantom! But why was he watching her? From what she understood, all of his attentions were for Christine. He had pretended to be her Angel of Music, after all.

Gulping, Eponine realized that Christine could quite possibly be in a great deal of trouble. If that man in the mask was infatuated with her, then she was indeed in danger. Her eyes searching for the soprano, Eponine was contemplating whether or not she should warn her, but soon forgoed that idea when she finally spotted Christine. Though she was pretending to be light, Eponine could see the uneasiness about her. Like she, too, felt she was being watched. Christine knew about her angel. Or even if she did not know that, she knew that she was being watched by a very dangerous person.

Dangerous. Eponine's mind turned back to early that morning when she had decided to try and unravel the secrets of the Phantom. Had she forgotten that this man had killed? He had threatened to do so to her if he found her snooping again. Was forgetting Marius really worth all of the trouble?

Marius. Just the mere thought of his name sent a dagger through Eponine's heart. Yes, she decided as the wound throbbed. Yes, she would rather die than endure the pain of knowing he would never love her. Death would be less painful.

* * *

Rehearsal ended early that day, and Meg dragged an unwilling Eponine to the costume department where they chose her Masquerade gown. Afterwards, Meg lent Eponine one of her dresses, and insisted that they go out.

"What about Christine?" Eponine asked.

Meg looked around, and smiling, she leaned in to whisper in Eponine's ear. "She has other plans, with the Vicomte de Chagny."

Nodding, Eponine smiled, and Meg led Eponine out of the Opera House and into the streets of Paris.

"Where should you like to go?" Meg asked.

Eponine pursed her lips. She knew where she _wanted_ to go, and she also knew that it was one of the places that she should avoid at all costs. But one visit could not hurt . . .

"Do you know the ABC Café?" Eponine asked.

"Vaguely. Do you want to go there?" Meg asked.

Hesitantly, Eponine nodded. "Yes, I have some friends who sometimes attend there."

And with a nod, Eponine and Meg walked through Paris until they had reached the Café in question. Entering it, Eponine was hit with the familiar warmth and sound of laughter. Smiling, and hoping that Marius was not there today, she walked up to the counter with her new friend to order their food.

"Now, what are two lovely ladies like yourself doin' at a place like this?" a drunken voice asked.

Meg flushed and refused to look at the drunkard, but Eponine turned her head and gave a wry smile.

"Drunk again I see, Grantaire." she commented.

The university student looked at Eponine in surprise, and suddenly let out a belting laugh.

"Well, I'll be! It's Marius' little urchin friend! Enjolras! Look who it is all prettied up!" Grantaire shouted.

"Honestly, Grantaire, can you go a single second of soberness? Pardon me, Mademoiselle, I shall assure you that this idiot will not bother you again –"

"It's alright, Enjolras, I'm used to Grantaire's outbursts." Eponine said, smiling.

The blonde young man stared at Eponine in surprise. "Do I know you from somewhere?" he asked.

"Don't you recognize little 'Ponine, Enjolras? Remember, the little urchin that Marius took to the Opera when the bloke died!" Grantaire exclaimed.

Enjolras stared at the former gamine. "Eponine?" he repeated.

The street girl in question nodded her head, smiling.

"What – how?" Enjolras stuttered.

"I got a job." Eponine replied.

Grantaire laughed. "Will wonders never cease? Marius has made an honest woman out of you!"

"Where?" Enjolras asked, ignoring his drunken friend.

"I'm a member of the chorus at the Opera Populaire. This is Meg, one of the dancers there. Meg, this is Enjolras, and the drunken one over there is Grantaire." Eponine said, gently taking her friend's shoulder and pulling her forward.

"Monsieurs," Meg said, bowing her head.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mademoiselle." Enjolras replied, bowing his head in a similar fashion.

"So you're in the opera now, huh 'Ponine? Any shows comin' up? Maybe me and some of the other boys can try and drag Enjolras to one of the performances." Grantaire said, laughing.

Eponine looked over at Meg, her eyebrow raised in her unspoken question.

"Well, we're planning on doing a production of _Faust_ after the New Year. We're mostly just preparing for the Masquerade, though." Meg answered.

"Ooh, a party!" Grantaire exclaimed.

"One that I doubt you'll be going to," Enjolras commented.

"Why's that?" Grantaire asked.

"Because I'm fairly certain that the Opera House has this thing called standards." Enjolras remarked dryly.

Grantaire opened his mouth to retort, but Enjolras cut him off with a glare.

"Do not say something that you will regret, Grantaire." Enjolras warned sternly.

Meg looked at the two patriots in confusion, but Eponine understood. She looked Enjolras in the eye, trying to convey her silent thanks. By way of answer, Enjolras nodded.

Grantaire, noticing the tense eye-contact between Enjolras and Eponine, gave a wry smile.

"Hey, Meggie, think we should give these two a moment?" he joked.

"Enough with your jesting, Grantaire. We have wasted precious time as it is. I hate to leave you two ladies, but we have important business to attend to. That is providing Grantaire can stay sober enough to carry on intelligent conversation." Enjolras said, glaring at the Les Amis in question.

"You _do_ realize this is _Grantaire_ you're talking about," Eponine remarked dryly.

"Oh, you two are a match made in heaven." Grantaire laughed as Enjolras pushed the drunken man towards the rest of their comrades.

"I hope to see you two sometime soon," Enjolras said, nodding his head.

"He's especially hoping to see you again, 'Ponine!" Grantaire called, laughing.

"Mon Dieu, Grantaire. Will you for once shut your mouth?"

"Ooh, watch your language around the ladies, Enjolras!"

"Are they always like that?" Meg asked as they exited the café.

"If you mean by like that Grantaire roaring drunk and Enjolras stricter than a nun, then yes." Eponine said.

"They're friends of yours?" Meg asked.

"Mainly by association. I really only know Monsieur Marius enough to call a friend." Eponine said, ignoring the twanging feeling in her breast when she said _his_ name.

"Is he a . . . _special_ friend?" Meg asked.

Eponine gave a sad smile. "No, he loves another very dearly." She said.

"But you wish that weren't so," Meg guessed.

Eponine shrugged her shoulders. "What does it matter? 'e will never love me. I've chosen to accept it." Eponine replied.

Meg's eyes were full of pity, but Eponine refused to meet them, and instead concentrated on walking back to the Opera Populaire.

* * *

Sitting back in his desk chair, the Phantom gave a triumphant smile. His _Don Juan_ was finally finished! All he had to do now was wait for the Masquerade to present it. He was confident that even the two fools Andre and Firmin would acknowledge what a piece of art it was.

Standing up and stretching, the Phantom decided that he would go and check on rehearsal. They were preparing for _Faust_, he knew, and undoubtedly Carlotta was butchering every single song that Marguerite sang.

Sniffing, the Phantom got into his gondola, and poled his way to one of his many passages before slinking into the shadows of the theatre, watching the rehearsal from above. Looking down, he noticed that they were practicing the ballet, and frowned in displeasure when he saw that urchin Eponine with the rest of the dancers. Ah, he supposed it was too much to hope that he had scared her enough the previous night for her to leave. After all, he supposed that this was her only way of getting food and shelter besides stealing or any other dishonest work.

As he stared at her, the Phantom noticed Eponine's head shoot up and look around, her eyes searching. A smirk slowly worked its way onto the Phantoms' mouth. She was an observant girl if she noticed his presence. It must have been those instincts she developed from living on the street.

The Phantom watched with satisfaction as the street girl became increasingly uneasy with his watching her. It seemed like she was deliberately trying to ignore him as she practiced. Well, at least her dancing was improving with all of her concentration.

When they finally took a break, the Giry girl dragged Eponine to the costume department, saying something about finding her a Masquerade dress. Bored, the Phantom redirected his attention to Christine, and noticed to his extreme displeasure that she was talking with the damned Vicomte. He saw them whispering together, and when he slinked a little closer, he could hear that they were planning on a sort of outing. Anger and hurt boiling inside of him, the Phantom contemplated following them, just giving them the discomfort of knowing that he was watching, when he stopped himself. No. Let them enjoy a false sense of security. Let them think he was gone. Their useless hopes of a life together would soon be shattered at the Masquerade, anyways.

Turning around, the Phantom was prepared to go back to his lair when he heard the Giry girl and that gamine talking about an outing of their own.

"Do you know the ABC Café?" the gamine was asking.

"Vaguely. Do you want to go there?" the Giry girl inquired.

The gamine nodded. "Yes, I have some friends who sometimes attend there."

Smiling, the Phantom slunk after them in the shadows. So, the street girl had friends? He might be able to use that to his advantage in the future.

Once the two girls had gone outside, the Phantom put on the fedora that he had kept concealed in his cloak and wrapped a scarf around his face. Walking after them, the Phantom mingled with the crowd. Always keeping a close eye on young Giry and the gamine, the Phantom strode through the people of Paris, the citizens giving him wary looks and avoiding contact with him. Even without seeing his face they were still terrified of him.

The two girls seemed to finally reach the café they had been searching for, and the Phantom waited a moment before following them inside. He silently slid into a chair in a corner, and watched as the two girls went up to the counter to order their food. A drunkard approached them, and the young Giry girl seemed quite wary of him until the gamine spoke to him. Staring at her, the drunkard belted out a hearty laugh.

"Well, I'll be! It's Marius' little urchin friend! Enjolras! Look who it is all prettied up!" The drunken man shouted.

A man with golden hair tied back scowled at the drunkard, and strode towards him. "Honestly, Grantaire, can you go a single second of soberness? Pardon me, Mademoiselle, I shall assure you that this idiot will not bother you again –"

"It's alright, Enjolras, I'm used to Grantaire's outbursts." the urchin girl said, smiling.

The man with the golden hair, whom the Phantom presumed was Enjolras, stared at the street girl in confusion.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" he asked.

"Don't you recognize little 'Ponine, Enjolras? Remember, the little urchin that Marius took to the Opera when the bloke died!" The drunken man exclaimed.

Hm, so she had been at Il Muto. That would explain her sudden nosy-ness. The Phantom had no doubt that she suspected him of killing Joseph Buquet. She had probably already figured out that he had made Carlotta croak as well. She was annoyingly intelligent that way . . .

The three continued to talk, the street girl eventually introducing the Giry girl to her two male comrades. Eventually, the Phantom grew bored with their idle talk and got up and left. He could only take so much of people being friendly before he got a sour, bitter taste in his mouth.

What the Phantom didn't know, was that had he stayed long enough, he would have found that he and the street girl Eponine were not so different after all.

* * *

Gah! I swear, my chapters WILL stop being this short! I just don't know what's wrong with me! Seriously! They keep on getting shorter and shorter! I promise that the next one will be longer! A lot of stuff will be happening in it! It won't be filler like this one was, I promise! IPROMISEIPROMISEIPROMISE!

~FantasticMisticalWonder (FMW/Wonder)

p.s. I know people are reading this story, but it would really make my day if you would just REVIEW! Please! PLEASEPLEASEPLEASE! I have only TWO reviews for FOUR chapters! PLEEEEEEEEEAAAAAASEEEEEEE!


	5. Masquerade!

Disclaimer: Webber and Leroux own Phantom, Hugo, Boublil, Schonberg, and Kretzmer own Les Mis.

* * *

A few days after visiting the ABC Café, Eponine decided to go exploring the Opera House. Now, normally, that wouldn't have been a problem, but people didn't generally go exploring large theatres in the dead of night.

Pulling her robe over her nightgown, Eponine crept down the hallways barefoot and without light of candle. She wanted to remain as inconspicuous as possible. She felt tempted to go through the mirror in the dressing room, but the Phantom was smart, and he would have placed some sort of booby-trap there to prevent her from entering his labyrinth from that particular entrance. But she knew that he must have other entrances.

Eponine decided that her best chance would be starting with the stage. After all, Joseph Buquet worked behind the scenes and up in the rafters a lot, and now he was dead. He must have known something that made him a threat to the Phantom.

Carefully, Eponine climbed up to the rafters where the scene-shifters worked, and she squinted in the dim light. It was dangerous to be up here without much light or knowledge of how to walk safely, but Eponine was trying to distract herself from her broken heart, and she was starting to lose rational as a result of trying to ignore the pain.

Gripping the ropes on either side of her, Eponine carefully walked down the plank of wood, wishing that she had worn slippers, as splinters in her feet would not help her improve her dancing.

When she finally came to the wall, Eponine carefully ran her hands over it, but found no fixtures or anything that resembled a door of any sort. Frowning, Eponine thought. He would have put the door in a place where no one would look. Someplace hard but not impossible to get to, and where not many people – not even the scene-shifters – went.

Looking, Eponine's eyes brightened when she saw a rope-ladder leading to a dark wooden platform, where many ropes were attached. That was the platform only used when ballerinas or actors or actresses were put in a harness and lifted into the air. And it hadn't been used in a long time due to it being deemed unsafe to hoist people into the air by a single rope.

Grinning, Eponine climbed up the rope ladder, finding it considerably more difficult than it looked, but managing to reach the platform. Standing up, Eponine walked over to the wall and pressed her hands against it, feeling around for some sort of crack in the wall that would betray a door. Eponine felt her hand come across something small and metal, and frowning, she fingered it. Gripping it tightly, Eponine pulled on it, and it made no move. Trying another approach, Eponine tried pushing on it and turning it, but to no avail. Thoughtfully, Eponine jiggled it, and smiled triumphantly when it clicked downwards, a part of the wall coming forward a little ways, revealing a door. Opening it and peaking inside, Eponine found the passage inside to be nearly pitch-black; she could hardly see anything!

Eponine opened to door to let more light in, and she cautiously stepped forward. The ground was cold and wet, but she paid no heed, and strode forward. Eponine froze when she heard the door behind her creak and shut, and cursed under her breath.

"Did I not warn you about what would happen if I found you in here again?" a voice growled from behind her.

Spinning around, Eponine swallowed her fear and put on a brave face, tossing back her hair and putting her hands on her hips – a stance she often used with her father and any other member of Patron-Minette that tried bossing her around.

"'ow was I supposed t'know that every secret passage belonged to you? I thought it was just the one be'ind the dressin' room mirror." Eponine said.

"I told you specifically to stop snooping," the Phantom growled, still invisible.

Eponine smiled. "Ah, but if you 'ad meant your threat, you wouldn't 'ave bothered with talkin' to me: I'd already be dead."

There was a pause, and Eponine kept her stance, though she could hear the swish of his cape and the rustle of his clothing as he moved. He was trying to sneak up on her, she realized. Almost too-late, Eponine heard the sharp crack of rope, and quickly put her hands up right before a noose fell over her head. She would have been strangled had her hands not been there.

Quickly hooking the rope with her thumbs, Eponine slipped the noose over her head, grabbed it, and yanked on it, pulling the man who had tried strangling her with it. And when the force of her yank pulled the Phantom towards her, Eponine stuck out her knee.

The collision was ended with a satisfying groan of pain and surprise from the male recipient.

"That's what happens when you try messin' with a street girl." Eponine said, smiling and pushing the man away.

"You're quick," the Phantom commented.

"Runnin' from the police gives you good practice," Eponine said, smiling.

The man grunted, and sniffed. Eponine heard the rustle of his clothes as he stood up straight, and she smirked. He was obviously embarrassed that he had been beaten by a barely ninety-pound girl.

"Are you alright, Monsieur?" Eponine asked innocently.

"Peachy." The Phantom said dryly.

Eponine nodded and then mockingly bowed. "Well, it really 'as been fun, Monsieur, but I 'ave dance rehearsal tomorrow, so I'm afraid I can't stay to chat. I do hope that I'll run into you again, though." Eponine said, almost reaching her hand up to tip her hat, but remembering last-minute that she wasn't wearing it. So she decided to go with a salute before turning around to walk away.

"I suspect I'll be seeing you at the Masquerade, Mademoiselle?" the Phantom inquired.

Eponine turned her head over her shoulder to smile at him. "If you're talkin' about the one here, then yes, if you intend on showin' up."

"I hope it wouldn't be too much to ask that you save a dance for a poor fool." The Phantom said.

Eponine was tempted to raise an eyebrow. This was a new angle for him; playing the courter. Well, she didn't want him to think she was _afraid_ of him, now did she? Even though he scared her stiff.

"If you come, Monsieur, I'll be waitin'." Eponine said, smiling coyly before turning and walking away. Starting, she realized that she still had the Punjab lasso in her hand. Turning around, Eponine cupped her hand to her mouth and shouted.

"Monsieur! You've forgotten something!" and without another word she threw the lasso in his general direction before running out the door and closing it behind her, leaning on it and smiling.

Oh, this was going to be _fun_.

* * *

The Phantom turned around in surprise when he heard the street girl call him, and blinked when he felt his Punjab lasso hit him in the face. He could hear the girl's giggles as she ran back into the theatre. Sniffing, the Phantom looked down and saw that the noose had fallen around his neck perfectly. Had the girl held onto the other end, she could have strangled him.

Lucky shot.

* * *

Days passed in which Eponine's thoughts were entirely consumed by rehearsals, the upcoming Masquerade, and her latest encounter with the Phantom. Rehearsals didn't get any easier, and Eponine was wondering if she would ever get used how physically exhausting they were.

Finally, the day of the Masquerade had arrived, and Meg pulled Christine and Eponine down to the Costume Department easily two hours before the guests would arrive to get ready.

"Oh, Eponine, are you sure you don't want to wear this pink gown? You'd look lovely in it." Meg insisted.

"I don't wear pink." Eponine said through gritted teeth. Pink was something Cosette would wear. Cosette . . . . damn, she had almost gone an entire week without thinking of . . . _Marius_.

"Are you alright, 'Ponine?" Christine asked, gently putting a hand on the street girl's shoulder.

Eponine nodded quickly and grabbed her dress off of the rack. "I suppose I'd better get into this thing." She said before going to one of the dressing rooms to get into her dress.

When she had finally managed to figure out how to get into the thing and how to tighten the corset, Eponine came out and found Meg and Christine already dressed, and Meg at work styling Christine's thick curly hair.

"Ah, 'Ponine, you're done! As soon as I finish with Christine's hair, I'll do yours!" Meg said enthusiastically.

"All right," Eponine said, sitting down and watching as Meg put pins and such into the thick dark brown locks of Christine's hair.

"There! All done!" Meg said triumphantly, standing back.

When Christine stood up, Eponine had to admit that she looked very beautiful. She wore a lovely pink dress, and her pale skin and dark chocolate hair contrasted in a lovely way.

"You're turn, 'Ponine!" Meg said, gesturing to the chair.

Nodding, Eponine sat down. "Could you just keep my hair down? I don't want nothin' too fancy done to it." Eponine said.

"Of course!" Meg cried before pulling a brush through Eponine's hair.

She sat in that chair for what felt like hours while her hair was pulled, her scalp pricked with pins, and Meg going on and on about what a pretty color her hair was. When the blond ballerina had finally finished with Eponine's hair, she stepped in front of Eponine's face.

"Here, let me just put a little make-up on you." She said.

"What?" Eponine asked in alarm.

"Nothing too much, just a little to make you even more pretty!" Meg assured before she dabbed some substance onto Eponine's eyelids and cheeks and lips.

"There! Perfect!" Meg said proudly, standing back.

Cautiously standing up, Eponine looked hesitantly at her reflection in the mirror.

"Well?" Meg asked expectantly.

Eponine's long red hair had remained down, just as she had requested, but the front of it had been pulled back. There must have been something intricate done to the back of her hair that Eponine couldn't see, since it couldn't have taken Meg _that_ long to just pull her hair back. Her corset was black with golden vine-like designs on it, and her long skirt was of the same gold color.

Eponine didn't even recognize herself.

"You did a good job, Meg. Thank you." Eponine said, smiling at the ballerina.

Meg smiled and then plopped down on the chair. "Now, one of you do my hair!"

Christine smiled and walked past Eponine to do so, but as she passed Eponine, she squeezed the street girl's shoulder. "You do look beautiful, 'Ponine." She whispered before gently pulling a brush through the ballerina's golden locks.

Eponine once more looked at her reflection in the mirror. Beautiful? Maybe.

But no amount of beauty could ever get Marius to love her.

* * *

When they went to the lobby the guests had already filed in, and the orchestra was already playing a tune. Eponine smiled at the gayness of it all and put on her mask. She walked off to the sidelines, and watched the people dancing, but her attention was suddenly drawn elsewhere when she heard a sharp whistle.

Turning around in surprise, Eponine saw Grantaire waving at her, the rest of the Friends of the ABC standing behind him. Enjolras turned sharply to reprimand Grantaire, but stopped when he saw Eponine walking towards them.

"I was 'opin' my mask would prevent anyone from recognisin' me." Eponine said wryly.

"I can pick you out anywhere, 'Ponine!" Grantaire laughed.

"I'm not sure whether that's good or bad." Eponine said.

"With Grantaire you can never know." Enjolras commented.

Eponine saw Grantaire lean back and smile at the rest of the Friends of the ABC, mouthing 'I told you so' at them.

"It seems that Grantaire is 'avin' fun at our expense." Eponine said dryly.

"Our expense? I thought it was the other way around." Enjolras said.

"Mon dieu, just ask the girl to dance already." Courfeyrac grumbled.

Enjolras turned to glare at the student, and the rest of the Friends of the ABC laughed.

"Oh, come now, Enjolras, I'm sure that your _Patria_won't be offended that you danced with a girl at a party, who I must admit is looking quite lovely." Jean Prouvaire laughed, nodding his head at Eponine at the last part.

"She's certainly better than a personification of a revolution," Grantaire commented, turning and wiggling his eyebrows at Eponine.

The street girl raised an eyebrow. "Personification? That's a big word for you, Grantaire. Are you sure you know what it means?" Eponine asked.

Bahorel laughed. "That settles it. Enjolras, you are dancing with that girl whether you want to or not," he declared, pushing the blond young man towards Eponine.

After he had regained his footing, Enjolras gave Eponine an apologetic look. "It seems my meddling friends aren't giving much room for option, Eponine." He said, holding out his hand.

Eponine smiled, taking his hand. "It's alright, Monsieur, I don't mind." She said, letting Enjolras lead her to where everyone else was dancing, and trying to ignore the kissy noises that Grantaire was making.

When they got to the dance floor, Enjolras awkwardly put his hand on Eponine's hip, and after an encouraging smile from Eponine, he began to lead her in the dance. The music was relatively quick, so at least they didn't have to deal with the awkwardness of a slow and intimate dance. Enjolras still seemed slightly uncomfortable though, so Eponine was the first one to speak.

"'ow 'ave the plans for the rebellion been going? I'm sorry I 'aven't been able to attend the meetings lately." Eponine asked.

Enjolras' eyes immediately lit up, and Eponine smiled. Any mention of his _Patria_ and his heart was set aflame.

"Everything is in place, we have all the plans, where we're to set up the barricade, we even have weapons ready! We just need a sign to rally the people. To have them realize that they need to fight to free themselves." Enjolras said; his voice filled with a passion that Eponine had often heard when he made his public speeches.

Her brow creasing, Eponine thought. "General Lamarque is the only representative for the people, correct?" she asked.

Enjolras nodded, his eyes growing dark. "Yes, but he is ill, and will not last long. Soon, the people will have no voice. Not that the government listened, anyways." Enjolras growled.

"Then 'e is to die soon?" Eponine asked.

Enjolras nodded his head.

"Then perhaps that can be your sign. The people will realize that they need to shout to be 'eard when their whisperer dies." Eponine said, leaning her head in towards Enjolras and smiling.

Enjolras stared down at Eponine, and his eyes grew wide and he smiled. "'Ponine, you are a genius! I don't know why I didn't think of it before!" Enjolras exclaimed, lifting her into the air and spinning her around.

Eponine laughed. "You shouldn't judge a girl on 'ow she looks, Enjolras. I may be poor, but I know a lot of things, I do."

Enjolras smiled down at her. "Yes, and just think how many more things you could have known, had your brain been properly taught. Why, you could have been a strategist to rival Napoleon." Enjolras said, his eyes twinkling with his teasing.

"Oh, I don't know if I'd go _that _far, Monsieur. I don't know if I'd 'ave the patience for that line of work." Eponine said, smiling.

"You've certainly managed to be patient enough with Marius," Enjolras commented.

Eponine ducked her head, feeling a sharp twang in her heart. Damn. Despite being around his friends, she had managed to not think of him. Until now.

"Is it that obvious, Monsieur?" Eponine asked.

"I would have to be both blind and deaf to not know how you care for him. Which apparently, _he _is." Enjolras said.

Eponine fought back a sob. "That's why I came 'ere, y'know. I was 'opin' to forget about 'im, 'cause I knew it was 'opeless." Eponine said, her voice wavering and a tear escaping her eye and running down her cheek.

Enjolras gently wiped the tear away with his thumb before taking Eponine's chin in his hand and lifting it, so her eyes – wide with the shock of the intimacy of the gesture – could meet his.

"Personally, I don't know why Marius would chase after a girl he barely knows, when he has a strong, beautiful, and witty girl right here." Enjolras said; his eyes for once not hard and icy, but soft and warm like the sky of a spring day.

"Mind if I cut in?" a silky smooth voice asked, interrupting the intimate moment and sending shivers up Eponine's spine.

Enjolras' hand gripped Eponine's arm tighter in a protective way for an instant before gently letting go.

"Of course," he said coolly, taking Eponine's hand and kissing it before turning and leaving.

Eponine turned to face the stranger, and felt chills when her eyes met his stormy grey-green ones. Upon his face he wore a death's mask, and he had a large red-feathered hat, a long red cloak, a red jacket and red trousers, a sword belted at his waist, and the phrase "Do not touch me! I am Red Death stalking abroad! . . ." embroidered on the edge of his cloak.

"Monsieur," Eponine said, curtsying to him.

The Red Death chuckled. "Come come, 'Ponine. You needn't be so formal with an old friend." He chided.

Eponine started when she heard her nickname, and frowned when she detected the almost demeaning tone of his voice. Her eyes widening slightly, she stared at him.

"Monsieur le Fantomme," Eponine gasped.

"I seem to recall you promising me a dance," the Phantom said, holding out his hand.

Eponine blinked, and she hesitantly put her hand in his gloved one. "Of course, Monsieur." She said, trying to put back on her brave and confidant façade. But he had caught her off-guard and in a vulnerable moment, she wasn't prepared to act the unafraid street-girl.

Eponine stifled a cry as he pulled her towards him, putting his hand on her hip and leading her in the dance, which was mercifully quick-paced. Immediately he began to spin her around, and Eponine found that she had almost no control over her movements. It was like she was a puppet, and he the puppet-master.

"I must admit, you look absolutely ravishing tonight, my dear." The Phantom said, his voice taking on a husky quality that sent shivers up Eponine's spine.

"Well, I couldn't exactly come in my rags, now could I?" Eponine replied, just managing to keep her voice from shaking.

The Phantom smirked. "No, I suppose not." He said, chuckling. The darkness of the chuckle only made Eponine even more uncomfortable.

The Phantom didn't speak for the rest of the dance, and when the orchestra paused at the end of the song, the Phantom let go of Eponine. The girl had to resist giving out a sigh of relief with the wonderful space between them. However, the Phantom grabbed her hand and pressed it to his lips, and Eponine had suddenly wished she'd warn gloves. And to make it worse, he kept his burning eyes trained on hers the entire time. Eponine stifled a cry when she felt something wet flick against her hand. He had just licked her! Releasing her hand, the Phantom bowed to her, and Eponine waited until he had passed out of sight before subtly wiping her hand on her dress.

"Eponine, are you alright? You're as pale as a ghost!" Enjolras exclaimed, coming up beside the street girl.

Eponine turned towards him, and almost cried out gratefully at the sight of his warm and concerned blue eyes.

"I'm fine, Monsieur." Eponine said, though she knew that her shaking voice betrayed her. She had known dancing to be exhausting, awkward, and even joyful, but never that nerve-wracking and frightening!

Enjolras frowned, and looked out into the crowd, his eyes searching. "Who was that man?" he asked.

"Just someone who works be'ind the scenes, Monsieur," Eponine said.

Enjolras turned sharply and narrowed his eyes at Eponine. "You mean he works here? He's here every day that you are?" the student demanded.

Eponine managed a smile and shook her head. "I rarely see him, Monsieur. I think I'll be fine," Eponine assured him.

Enjolras frowned, but didn't ask any more questions about the Red Death.

"Would you like to sit down?" Enjolras asked.

Eponine shook her head. "No, though I would welcome some dancin'." Eponine said, looking up at him.

Enjolras' eyes softened, and he nodded before taking Eponine into his arms, his actions less awkward and more protective this time. They gently swayed to the slower and softer music, and Eponine welcomed how comfortable that moment felt. However, the warm atmosphere was broken by the orchestra suddenly stopping in the middle of the song. Turning, Eponine and Enjolras stared at the orchestra, but found their attention turned to the top of the staircase, where the Red Death was standing.

Eponine gulped, and she felt Enjolras' arm tighten around her waist.

"Isn't that . . ."

"The man I was dancin' with, yes." Eponine said.

"Why so silent, good Monsieurs? Surely you didn't think that I had left for good." The Red Death said mockingly, ascending the stairs.

"I hope you didn't miss me too much. But I've brought you a present. An opera of my own composition." The Red Death said, holding up a leather-bound book.

"Here is the finished score. I call it, _Don Juan Triumphant_." The Phantom declared, throwing down the manuscript and drawing his sword. He looked at the terrified looks of the people and smiled before gently caressing the weapon.

"I have only a few instructions before rehearsal starts," he said before pointing his weapon at Carlotta.

"Carlotta must be taught to act; strutting around the stage will simply not do." Said, teasing her feathered hat with his sword before gently poking Piangi in the gut with it when the tenor stepped forward.

"Piangi, you must lose some weight, my good fellow, if you're to play Don Juan. It is simply not healthy in a man of your age." The Phantom said, turning his eyes to Eponine.

"Our newest member, Little 'Ponine, must lose her accent. We have to at least _pretend _that we still have standards." The Phantom declared, his eyes glinting cruelly. Eponine gulped, but kept her face hard.

"And my managers must learn that they belong in an office, not the arts." The Phantom said, pointing his sword at Andre and Firmin.

Turning a change came over the Phantom, and Eponine saw that he was staring at Christine, her partner the Vicomte de Chagny no longer at her side.

"And as for our star, Miss Daae. I'm sure that she'll do her best, but in order to excel, she knows that she'll have to return to me, her teacher, that is if pride will allow her to." The Phantom said.

Christine and the Phantom stared at each other, and Eponine started when she saw the incredible softness and vulnerability in his eyes as she slowly started walking towards him. And hesitantly, the Phantom was drawn to her as well. They met in the middle, and the Phantom stared at Christine with such longing that Eponine was surprised that he didn't break down and cry.

But as the Phantom stared at the soprano, his eyes fell on the ring on the chain on her breast, and sudden anger flashed in his eyes. He tore the ring from her neck and held it in his fist.

"Your chains are still mine! You belong to me!" the Phantom shouted before turning and running, disappearing in a burst of flame. Eponine gasped as she saw the Vicomte run after him, jumping into the hole that the Phantom had disappeared into, and it closing behind him.

"Are you sure you'll be fine here, 'Ponine?" Enjolras asked.

Eponine shook her head. "The only one I'm worried about is Christine: he's in love with her. You can see it in his eyes." Eponine said.

And for the first, but not the last time, Eponine felt pity for the Phantom.

* * *

Phew! That was both fun and exhausting to write! And for some reason, it wouldn't save, so I had to keep re-writing part of the second half. X( I was not happy. But it's done! And sorry if this one is too long! I want to compensate for how short my previous chapters are.

Oh, and I know I'm totally messing with the time-line of Les Miserables. I know that Lamarque died BEFORE the whole "A Heart Full of Love" thing, but I guess that you guys might as well consider this to be AU. I mean, I'm already putting Phantom back half a decade, and for purposes of this story, I'm going to have to mess with the order of (minor-ish) events. So, yeah, I guess this story is officially AU now.

~FantasticMisticalWonder (FMW/Wonder)

EDIT: Review! Please! I was looking at the traffic for this story the other night, and more than SEVENTEEN people read this chapter, and do you know HOW many reviews I got for it? ZERO. NADA. Please! It takes maybe THIRTY SECONDS out of your life! Please! *starts bawling* Reviews are my inspiration for writing! Is it too much to ask from my readers that I get feedback about my story? I've enabled Anonymous reviews so even those who don't have accounts can review! So, PLEASE! PLEASE REVIEW!


	6. Little He Sees

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Victor Hugo, Boublil, Schonberg, and Kretzmer own Les Miserables. Gastone Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber own the Phantom of the Opera.

* * *

Christine was thoroughly shaken after the events of the Masquerade. The Vicomte de Chagny had reappeared, safe and unharmed, but the entire party was ruined. Eponine had gotten over her own fright, and was attempting to comfort Christine along with Meg, the pallerina stroking the soprano's dark hair comfortingly. But Christine remained silent, her face pale and stoic. Eponine looked up when she felt a hand on her shoulder, and stood up when she saw Enjolras standing behind her.

"I'll be right back, Christine." Eponine said, following Enjolras outside into the cool night air.

"What is it?" Eponine asked.

"Eponine, may I be frank?" Enjolras asked.

"I wouldn't 'ave you be anythin' but." Eponine replied.

"I think you'd be safer at the barricades than here." Enjolras said.

"Monsieur, I told you; the Phantom 'as no interest in me. It's Christine 'e loves." Eponine said.

"Then why did he choose to dance with you and not Christine?" Enjolras asked, crossing his arms.

Eponine looked down. "I may 'ave bumped into 'im a few times." She mumbled.

"Bumped into him?" Enjolras repeated.

"More like I was snoopin'," Eponine said, her cheeks burning.

Enjolras groaned. "Eponine, I have no doubt that you can take care of yourself, but sometimes I wonder if you go looking for trouble deliberately." Enjolras chided.

Eponine narrowed her eyes. "Monsieur, I do not go lookin' for trouble. I just seem to be pushed into it. I didn't ask to be involved in my father's plots. I didn't ask to be used in the Patron-Minette. Other people decided for me."

"And did someone else decide for you to go searching for the Phantom of the Opera?" Enjolras asked, stepping towards her.

Eponine looked down. "It's not what you think."

"I think you're being irrational, 'Ponine. Marius is a fool. Accept that. In time you will learn to forget –"

"You don't understand!" Eponine shouted, tears threatening to spring from her eyes. "I love 'im! I love 'im and it 'urts so much to know that 'e doesn't love me. I found Cosette for 'im! I delivered 'is notes to 'er! All because I couldn't bear to see 'imun'appy! And it 'urts that 'e doesn't even know! I'm just poor 'Ponine; the wretched street girl who's 'is piece of charity! It 'urts so much that I sometimes want to stab my own 'eart to stop the pain." Eponine was sobbing now, the hot tears running freely down her face. Enjolras was staring at her, a mix of pity and pain on his face.

"I can't leave, Monsieur. Because everywhere else reminds me of 'im. And I can't live my whole life with that pain. It might be more dangerous 'ere, but it doesn't 'urt so much." Eponine said.

Enjolras took a step towards the street urchin, but she backed away from him. "'Ponine . . ."

"Monsieur, please. I thank you for your kindness tonight, but I would appreciate it if you would leave me be." Eponine said, turning and running back into the Opera House.

Enjolras stared after her for a moment, but then turned around and walked back towards his home.

* * *

A week passed, and they resumed their rehearsals for _Faust_. Eponine wasn't surprised that they weren't working on _Don Juan Triumphant_: she had learned the two managers, Andre and Firmin, to be too proud to submit to the Opera Ghost. Whether it was keeping Box Five empty, or performing his work.

And Eponine knew that their pride would lead to more disaster.

Eponine had kept her searching the Opera House to a minimum, partly because she had no idea where to look for another passageway, and partly because she knew a warning when she was given one. And the Masquerade had most definitely been a warning.

"Eponine! Christine and I are going out; do you want to come with us?" Meg asked, coming up to Eponine in the dormitory, her cloak already clasped around her neck.

Eponine looked up from the book she was reading – something by Shakespeare, she was trying to improve her reading skills – and smiled at Meg before shaking her head.

"No, thank you for the offer though, Meg." Eponine said, returning her attention to the book.

Meg shrugged. "All right!" she turned around to leave, but stopped when she saw Christine in the doorway.

"Christine! Eponine doesn't want to come with us. Are you ready to go?" Meg asked.

Christine smiled at the blond ballerina. "Yes, but before we leave, do you mind if I have a private word with Eponine?"

Meg nodded. "Of course! I'll be waiting for you in the lobby!" and without another word the ballerina rushed out of the dormitory.

Looking up at the soprano, Eponine smiled at her before dog-earing the page she was on and closing the book.

"What is it, Christine?" Eponine asked.

Hesitantly, Christine sat on the bed beside Eponine, and she looked up into Eponine's eyes, a question clear in her expression.

"Eponine, when you were at the Masquerade, who was that man you were dancing with?" Christine asked.

Eponine kept a calm face, though she could feel a bit of panic well up in her. Absentmindedly, she placed her finger on her hand where the Phantom had kissed and then licked her. She could still feel his lips and tongue imprinted there. Like a shadow.

"That was Monsieur Enjolras; 'e's one of my friends from when I was on the streets." Eponine answered.

Christine shook her head. "No, the man in the red." She said.

Eponine looked down. "You know who it was," she whispered.

"Why was he dancing with you?" Christine asked.

Eponine licked her lips. "I may have gotten on 'is bad side."

"How did you do that?" Christine asked.

"I found two of 'is secret passages." Eponine said, fiddling with her hands.

"Oh, Eponine!" Christine cried, grasping the younger girl's hands.

"Promise me you won't go exploring again! Joseph Buquet was killed because he knew too much! You've already shown that you're smarter than him by not bragging to the world about knowing the Phantom's secrets, but you must tread carefully! I don't want to lose one of my friends to him. He'll kill you if he sees you as a threat." Christine said.

Eponine looked up at the soprano, and nodded. "Don't worry, I 'aven't gone explorin' since the Masquerade. I'm not an idiot, and 'e was practically threatenin' me back there." Eponine said.

Christine nodded and released Eponine's hands, standing up and drawing her cloak about her. Looking down, she smiled at Eponine.

"Be careful, Eponine." She said before turning to walk out the door.

""e's in love with you, you know." Eponine called, making the soprano stop in her tracks.

"What?" Christine asked, turning around to look at Eponine in confusion.

"I could see it in 'is eyes. 'e's in love with you." Eponine said.

Christine looked down, pain and fear and confusion flicking across her face.

"Take care, 'Ponine." Christine said before hurrying out the door.

Eponine looked down and sighed before picking back up her book and opening to the page she had left off on. A Midsummer Night's Dream. That was what the story was called. It was actually quite amusing at parts . . .

Eponine was jolted out of her reading by a voice suddenly penetrating the room.

"_Those who say what's not theirs to tell_

_Find too late that they should not have spoke at all."_

Eponine kept herself from trembling, and put her book face-down on the bed, standing up. The voice had come through the one wall. Pretending like she was reaching to open the wardrobe, Eponine suddenly threw her weight against the wall, grinning when she heard a startled cry and the sound of someone falling down.

"_And those who lurk where they should not_

_Find that they should have learned to use the door." _Eponine sang mockingly.

He scared her now more than ever, but that didn't mean she had to let him know that. Besides, she had been a good girl. She only knew of two passageways that he had probably already rigged with traps should she snoop there again. And she had no intention of looking for more entrances to his labyrinth.

Yet.

* * *

The Phantom groaned and rubbed his head. _Merde_, that girl was getting on his nerves. She had to go and tell Christine about his . . . his feelings for her, and then she had make him look like a fool!

Perhaps what he had done at the Masquerade had been a little too much. Women tended to get offended when you insulted them in front of a crowd.

Shaking his head, the Phantom stood up and straightened his shirt and cloak. He had half a mind to go into her room and frighten her. But no, he had a feeling that a confrontation would end badly. He may have gained the upper hand at the Masquerade, but that was out of pure surprise. He had seen the sudden vulnerability in her eyes as she danced with that young man – a student, by the looks of him – and he knew that he had caught her in one of her most fragile moments. He didn't know who that student was, or what he had said to invoke that kind of weakness in a girl he had seen to be brave to the point of stupidity, but it was obvious that she had a weakness. A very powerful weakness. She had been almost in tears when he had intervened, and she didn't seem like the kind of girl to let herself be seen crying.

Standing up, the Phantom straightened his cloak, and thought. This "weakness" of hers might be useful to know. If it was something he could . . . _assist_ her with, then he would have her in his debt. The Phantom smiled at the thought. A favor from a street girl. That could come to be useful. And even if he couldn't do anything about her bane, he might still be able to use it as blackmail.

Grinning, the Phantom resolved to go to that café she had gone to with the Giry girl – he had seen the blond student she had been dancing with there. So donning his fedora and wrapping a scarf around his face, the Phantom ventured outside the Opera House, melting into the crowd. And just as before, the people instinctively avoided contact with him. But he paid them no head. He just kept walking through the streets until he came to the bright atmosphere of the ABC Café. Slinking in, he was hit by the warmth and the sound of laughter. Looking around, he saw the students he had noticed at the Masquerade all sitting at a group of tables, their laughter and joviality clear. One of them seemed to be completely inebriated, and he was waving his bottle of beer in the air.

"Grantaire, put that bottle down! You won't last a day at the barricades if you can't stay sober for a single second." The blond man snapped; his face grave and serious, unlike that of his friends.

"Don't listen to him, Grantaire, he's still sore about 'Ponine leaving him at the Masquerade." Another student said, smiling.

The blond student turned around to glare at the student who had spoken, and probably would have snapped something at him had not a younger, darker-haired student walked into the café at that moment. He had a dreamy expression on his face, and the Phantom was reminded unpleasantly of the Vicomte de Chagny.

"Marius, you're late, _again_. You'll get shot if you arrive at the barricades too late. The National Guard isn't as forgiving about tardiness." the blond student said, frowning.

"Cut the boy some slack, Enjolras, look at his face. It's obvious that he's been with his mystery girl again." a student laughed.

"Our little lives are no excuse for missing a revolution." Enjolras said through gritted teeth.

"I apologize for my tardiness, Enjolras. But Cosette is the only thing that consumes my mind now. She is my everything; my soul, my sun, my life." Marius sighed.

"Oh-ho! We've got a new Shakespeare emerging, my friends!" Grantaire laughed, horribly mispronouncing Shakespeare's name.

"Perhaps if you were in love, you would understand." Marius said, putting his hand on Enjolras' shoulder in an almost pitying way.

"Oh, but he _is_, Marius." a student said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Marius stared down at Enjolras. "What?" he asked.

"Cupid's arrow hath pierced Enjolras' heart, when we all thought him to have sworn off love! But now, now he is our new Don Jooan!" Grantaire cried drunkenly, crying in surprise as he fell off of his chair.

Marius continued to stare down at Enjolras, a smile slowly breaking out on his face. "When? When did this wonderful thing happen to you?" Marius cried in delight.

The Phantom almost snorted. Love, a wonderful thing? More like a curse.

"I'm not 'in love.'" Enjolras growled.

"Liar! Liar!" Grantaire shouted, leaning on the table as he tried to stand up, but only falling back down.

"Who?" Marius asked.

A student cleared his throat. "The maid who hath claimed his heart –"

"Courfeyrac . . ." Enjolras warned.

" – is a bright and witty girl. With hair the color of autumn leaves, but her locks have not a curl . . ."

"Shut up with the poetry and get to the bloody point." Grantaire grunted, trying to climb back up into his chair.

Courfeyrac glared at Grantaire before sighing and looking at Marius. "It's Eponine," he said.

The shocked silence that followed was almost so quiet that the Phantom's ears hurt.

""Ponine?" Marius asked in shock.

"Please. Can we put aside our personal matters and start planning this revolution?" Enjolras asked, his voice sounding almost tired.

"'_Ponine_?"

"We will not defeat the National Guard with love songs! Unless you all want to die at the barricades and never see these women that you claim to love so much again, I suggest we get to work on strategizing!" Enjolras shouted, glaring at each of the students.

They all clamped their mouths shut and stared at Enjolras, but they consented and started immediately consulting their books and discussing battle strategies.

The Phantom sniffed, frowning. Well, that was almost no help at all. Unless that Grantaire fellow was Eponine's brother and a complete disgrace to her family, the Phantom doubted that he had learned anything of use. Except that the girl was friends with revolutionaries. That explained her impulsive behavior.

Sighing, the Phantom stood up and left the Café. That was a complete waste of time. He learned nothing that could be used to solve his Eponine problem.

However, had the Phantom stayed until the end of the meeting, he would have heard something that would have made him aware of the similarity that he and Eponine shared. A similarity that Eponine herself was beginning to realize.

* * *

The students dispersed at the end of the meeting. Enjolras put his head in his hands and sighed. He was tired. There were times when he wondered about the sanity of their endeavor to free France. They were just schoolboys. They didn't even know how to use guns properly! But then he would see little Gavroche and the other urchins, and see their emaciated figures and the dirt and grime upon their faces. It was then that he remembered why he was fighting. To give them a better future. Not all of the urchins could be as fortunate as Eponine was . . .

"Enjolras?" a voice asked.

Said student looked up, and saw Marius standing before him.

"What is it, Marius? Shouldn't you be going to visit your precious Cosette?" Enjolras asked.

"I wanted to talk to you," Marius said, pulling up a chair.

Inwardly, Enjolras groaned. Not this again. "Not now Marius –"

"How on earth did you and 'Ponine end up . . . well, I'm just curious as to how two of my closest friends fell –"

"We're not, Marius, Grantaire and the others were exaggerating." Enjolras snapped.

"But there had to be something for them to exaggerate about." Marius said.

Enjolras sighed. "We danced at a Masquerade, that's all." he said.

"A Masquerade? Where?" Marius asked.

"At the Opera Populaire." Enjolras said.

"What were you doing there?" Marius laughed.

Enjolras looked at Marius sharply. "You mean you don't know?" he asked.

"Know what?" Marius asked.

Enjolras stared at Marius. "You really are a fool," he said.

"What?" Marius asked.

"Tell me Marius, have you seen Eponine at all in the past month?" Enjolras asked.

Marius shook his head. "No, come to think of it I haven't."

"And you haven't wondered where she's been at all?" Enjolras asked incredulously.

"I assumed she was doing work for her father." Marius said.

"If Grantaire was here, I believe he would remind you of what happens when you assume. She got a job as a chorus member at the Opera House." Enjolras said.

Marius stared at him. "She what?" he asked.

"She got a job. You didn't wonder at all where she was after being missing for over a month when you normally see her every day?" Enjolras asked.

"I thought – why didn't she tell me she got a job?" Marius wondered.

"You really are a blind, deaf fool." Enjolras muttered.

"I don't understand why you're so accusatory of me all of a sudden!" Marius exclaimed.

"Mon Dieu, Marius, Eponine's in love with you!" Enjolras cried, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.

Marius stared at Enjolras. "What?" he asked.

Enjolras sighed. "Eponine's in love with you. Don't tell me you haven't noticed." he said.

Marius stared at him open-mouthed. "I – I never thought – she never seemed – oh, _merde_."

"Did you never see the sadness behind her eyes when she looked at you? Did you not see how every smile she gave you was false? Were you unaware of the pain you caused her whenever you touched her, or kissed her cheak?" Enjolras demanded, his voice rising with anger.

Marius shook his head. "I never suspected –"

"You have caused that girl endless grief, Marius. And that is why I am so accusatory of you. You never even gave her a second thought, did you?" Enjolras asked, walking past Marius and out of the café.

Eponine would never forgive him. Though she had never asked him to keep her affections a secret, he knew that she wouldn't have wanted Marius to know. Not like this.

Oh, _merde_, what was he to do?

* * *

Okay, I promise, all of this WILL have a purpose. I'm not just putting in this (slight) Eponine/Enjolras stuff for the heck of it. It all WILL come back around. I promise. And sorry, I know that this chapter was kinda filler-ish seeming. But the one before it had HUGE plot development, and the next one will, too. The pattern for the chapters is probably going to be plot, filler, plot, filler, plot, crack. XD Kidding about the last part. And when I mean "filler" I mean developing relationships and stuff.

I have nothing else to say except for REVIEW! Seriously! FOUR reviews for SIX chapters! And I have this neat little tool called Traffic, that lets me see how many people read specific stories and chapters each day. TWENTY ONE of you read the previous chapter, and not ONE of you reviewed it! :O And the last chapter was probably my favorite one to write! Do you know what message that sends to me? That you guys didn't like the last chapter. Or that you just don't care about this story or something. Even if you guys don't mean it, that's the message I'm getting. And it's not making me feel very good. I mean, people are reading it past the first chapter so I know they're able to stomach it at least, but still! REVIEW! It's the inspiration and survival food for an author! PLEASE!

~FantasticMisticalWonder (FMW/Wonder)


	7. Don Juan Triumphant

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Victor Hugo, Boublil, Schonberg, and Kretzmer own Les Miserables. Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber own the Phantom of the Opera

* * *

Eponine was jolted out of her sleep by the feeling of being roughly shaken.

"'Ponine! 'Ponine, wake up!" the familiar voice of Meg cried.

"What is it?" Eponine asked, sitting up and blinking her eyes blearily.

"Christine's missing!" Meg exclaimed.

Instantly, Eponine was wide awake. "What?" she asked in alarm.

"Christine's not in her bed! And a carriage is missing!" Meg cried, worry clear in her eyes.

Eponine quickly got out of bed, only tying a robe around her nightgown before running out into the corridor.

"Where are you going?" Meg asked.

"Just trust me!" Eponine called back.

She ran down the stairs and through the twists and turns of the Opera house until she came to the soprano's dressing room. Eponine burst through the door and ran straight to the mirror, sliding it open. She ran down the dark hallway and stopped, panting. She strained her ears, but she heard nothing that betrayed the Phantom's presence.

"Monsieur le Fantomme!" Eponine called, her voice echoing across the walls.

No reply.

"Monsieur le Fantomme, it's me: Eponine! I'm the annoying street girl who needs to lose 'er accent!"

Still no reply.

"Your mother was a 'amster and your father smelt of elderberries!"

Still no answer.

Eponine gulped, her fears confirmed, and she turned around and ran from the passage, only just remembering to close the mirror and later the door behind her. She ran back up the stairs to Christine's door, and she saw the Vicomte de Chagny asleep outside her door.

Eponine ran up to the young noble – what was his name again? Howl? – and urgently shook his arm.

"Monsieur Vicomte! Monseiur Vicomte!" Eponine cried.

The Vicomte started awake. "Christine?" he blinked at her. "Christine, what's the matter?" he asked.

"I'm not Christine! Christine's gone!" Eponine exclaimed.

"The Vicomte's eyes cleared instantly and he grabbed Eponine by the arms. "What do you mean she's gone?" he demanded.

"She's not in 'er room." Eponine replied.

The Vicomte's eyes opened wide and he rushed into Christine's room. After a moment he reemerged, panic in his eyes.

"Her night-gown's on her chair," he said.

"So she willingly got up, dressed, and left." Eponine reasoned.

The Vicomte nodded and visibly relaxed, and Eponine bit her lip.

"I think _he_ may have gone after her," she said.

The Vicomte's eyes opened wide, and he immediately rushed down the stairs.

"'ow do you know where to find 'er?" Eponine called after him.

"Little Litte's father promised her he'd send her the Angel of Music!" the Vicomte replied.

Eponine frowned, but then her eyes opened in understanding.

Christine had gone to her father's grave.

* * *

Eponine and Meg waited anxiously in the stables for Raoul – _that_ was his name! – and Christine to return. Eponine stood up when she heard the clatter of hooves on cobblestone. A white horse came into view, Raoul riding it, and Christine sitting behind him.

"Christine!" Meg cried, running and embracing her friend as soon as she had dismounted.

"He was pretending to be my father Meg!" Christine cried.

Eponine squinted at the blood on the Vicomte's arm, tore a strip of fabric from her nightgown and roughly tied it around his arm.

"Thank you," Raoul grunted.

"Don't mention it, Monsieur," Eponine mumbled.

Raoul nodded his head and squinted at Eponine, studying her face.

"Thank you for warning me. I loathe to think of what would have happened had you not." Raoul said grimly.

"I don't want no friend of mine getting' 'urt, Monsieur. I was just tryin' to 'elp Christine." Eponine said, bowing her head.

Raoul nodded and looked at Christine. "I don't want her getting hurt either," he said.

Eponine frowned when she saw the look on his face. "What's on your mind, Monsieur?" she asked.

Raoul turned and looked at Eponine, a strange glint in his eye. "Hopefully, a plan to ensnare our clever friend."

* * *

The next morning, Eponine was awakened by Meg once more.

"What is it? Re'earsal isn't for another hour." Eponine grumbled.

"Not anymore. We have to catch up." Meg said.

"What do you mean?" Eponine asked.

"We're not doing _Faust_ anymore." Meg said.

"Then what are we doin'?" Eponine asked.

Meg turned and looked at Eponine, her big blue eyes very worried-looking. "_Don Juan Triumphant_."

Eponine's eyes opened wide. "What made the managers change their minds?" Eponine asked.

Meg looked around, like she was afraid that someone was listening, and leaned towards Eponine.

"I hear it was the Vicomte who persuaded them," she whispered.

Eponine frowned, and then her eyes opened wide, Raoul's words coming back to her.

"_Hopefully, a plan to ensnare our clever friend." _

"Who's going to be singing the lead?" Eponine asked.

Meg fiddled with her dress uncomfortably. "Oh, you know, Piangi . . . . and Christine." she said.

Eponine stared at Meg before groaning. "Oh, don't tell me 'e's that thick." she said before getting up and running to the baths. As soon as she had cleaned herself and dressed – funny, only a few months ago she would have laughed at the idea of bathing each day, but she now found it to be a part of her regular routine – Eponine ran downstairs and to the chapel, where she found Christine and Raoul.

"Monsieur Vicomte, you can't possibly be considering doing this," Eponine said, putting her hands on her hips.

Raoul and Christine turned around to face the newcomer. Raoul gently touched Christine's shoulder before standing up. "It's the only way to catch him. He'll haunt us for the rest of our lives if we don't do something about him."

"I couldn't agree more, Monsieur, but using _Christine_ as the bait?" Eponine exclaimed.

"Lower your voice, unless you want him to know about our plan," Raoul hissed.

Eponine rolled her eyes. "'e probably already knows about your 'plan.' 'e's not an idiot, and 'e'll know somethin's up when 'e 'ears about the managers 'avin' a sudden change of 'eart and decidin' to perform 'is work. Your just puttin' Christine in more danger!"

"I think I'm the only one he won't hurt, 'Ponine." Christine said uncertainly.

"That may be so, Mademoiselle, but you'll be sure as 'ell a lot 'arder to get back once 'e captures you." Eponine snapped.

"He won't be able to touch her: the police will be there the moment he shows his masked face." Raoul assured Eponine.

"And if 'e doesn't know that, then 'e probably suspects that and e'll have come up with a way to get around them. 'e isn't just some charlatan, Monsieur Vicomte; 'e knows 'is way around this Opera 'ouse. Better than the people who built it, I think. That, and I know the police of this town. They couldn't catch a blind snail if their lives depended on it." Eponine said.

Christine stood up and stepped forward. "Eponine, this is the only way. I don't like it either, but I'm the only one who will be safe at his mercy, if it comes to that. If Carlotta were to sing instead of me, he might not appear, or he'll kill her." Christine said.

Eponine pursed her lips. "Fine. You want to play right into 'is 'ands, be my guest. 'ave fun with your plottin', Monsieur, Mademoiselle." Eponine said, bowing before turning around and leaving the chapel, going up to rehearsal.

They were idiots if they thought their plan was to work.

* * *

They had an entire week to rehears for _Don Juan_, and that week was torture for Eponine.

She constantly kept looking over her shoulder, as if she were afraid that the Phantom would suddenly materialize there, and she found that she was too tired and spent at the end of the day to go and try and find some more of the Phantom's passages. Eponine had originally planned to find as many of the doorways to the labyrinth as possible and to tell the police about them, but she found she just didn't have the energy. If she did find a passage, she would be too tired to be able to think clearly and quickly if she should run into the Phantom. She would be dead.

Christine had – in an attempt to ease Eponine's worry – been giving Eponine minor singing lessons. And Meg had been helping the street-girl with her dancing as well. And both continued to tell Eponine how quickly she was improving in both areas. Eponine thanked them for their efforts, but she didn't care about being a good singer or dancer. She just wanted her friends safe.

Finally, the day of the performance had arrived, and everyone was in a hassle. Seen-shifters were making last-minute preparations to the sets, the maids were cleaning the auditorium, and the costume-designers were making last-minute edits.

And amongst the chaos, Meg found Eponine once more.

"Eponine, have you heard the news?" Meg asked.

"What news?" Eponine asked.

"It's General Lamarque: he's dead!" Meg exclaimed.

The world seemed to stop, and Eponine stared at the ballerina.

"Lamarque . . . is dead?" she asked.

Meg nodded. "Isn't it awful?" she asked.

"Meg! I need you for a moment!" Madame Giry called.

"Oh, I have to go, I'll see you later, 'Ponine!" Meg called before running over to her mother.

Eponine stared after Meg before running out into the streets of Paris. She couldn't deliver the news herself, she was needed back at the Opera Populaire, but she knew someone who could deliver the news . . .

"Gavroche!" Eponine called, entering the alleyway she knew he often inhabited.

"What you want wif me?" Gavroche asked, peaking up from behind a pile of trash.

"I need you to deliver a message to Enjolras. Here, I'll pay you." Eponine said, digging her hand into her pocket and pulling out five franks.

Gavroche raised an eyebrow and gave Eponine a toothy grin. "What is it? A love note? The boys at the Café told me about you and 'im."

Eponine blinked and confusion and shook her head. "No, it's not that. It's important."

Gavroche crossed his arms. "All right, let me 'ear it."

"General Lamarque is dead," Eponine said.

Gavroche's eyes opened wide, and he nodded, taking the coins from Eponine's hand before running down the street.

Eponine watched him go for a moment before turning and running back to the Opera House. She wished that she could have given him more money. She didn't want her brother to live in the life of poverty that she had only just escaped by luck. But she didn't have any more on her, and besides, he probably wouldn't have accepted charity from an almost complete stranger.

He probably didn't even remember that the Thenardiers were his parents.

* * *

Eponine was in costume, and ready but unwilling to go onstage. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, and grimaced at the dress she was wearing. Was it really necessary for that much of her bosom to be showing? Honestly, she felt like a prostitute, not a Spanish Dancer. Sighing, Eponine adjusted the curly black wig on her head before marching out into the backstage area.

"Christine! There you are! I've been looking all over for you!" Raoul exclaimed, grabbing Eponine by the shoulders and turning her around.

"I don't want you to worry about _him_, alright? The police are stationed at every corner off stage. He won't be able to get past them." Raoul said, giving her an encouraging smile.

Eponine blinked. "Monsieur, I –"

"I don't like you going out there, you know. I wish there was some other way." Raoul sighed before cupping Eponine's cheek. "But you and I both know he'll never let us be if he isn't behind bars or dead."

Eponine shook her head and stepped back from Raoul, hurt crossing across the Vicomte's face.

"Monsieur, you are mistaken: I'm Eponine, not Christine." Eponine said.

Raoul gave her a funny look, but stopped when he heard a voice call out his name.

"Raoul!" Christine cried, running up to the noble.

Raoul blinked and looked from Eponine to Christine in confusion.

"Christine, is that you?" he asked.

Christine nodded. "Of course it is. Who else would –" Christine stopped as soon as she looked at Eponine, and her eyes opened wide.

"What is it?" Eponine asked, uncomfortable under the stares.

"She could be your twin," Raoul said to Christine in amazement.

"I'm getting a strange sense of deja-vu." Christine murmured.

Eponine could almost see the light go off in Raoul's head.

"Eponine, to what lengths would you be willing to keep Christine off of that stage?" Raoul asked eagerly.

Eponine looked at the Vicomte in confusion. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Would you be willing to go up there instead of Christine?" Raoul asked.

Christine gasped. "Raoul, you can't ask Eponine to put herself in that kind of danger –"

"I'll do it," Eponine said firmly.

Christine stared at Eponine, and Raoul smiled. "What?" Christine asked.

"I'll go in your place. If I can fool Raoul into thinkin' I'm you, I think I can convince _'im_ as well." Eponine said.

"But – but he'll no it isn't you as soon as you start singing!" Christine protested.

"You've been givin' me lessons. I'm not as good as you and my voice is weaker, but I doubt it'll make 'im suspicious."

Christine was looking at Eponine, stricken. "Eponine, if he finds out you aren't me, he'll kill you –"

"I have nothin' to live for, Mademoiselle. My own parents don't give a damn as to whether I live or die. I'd rather go protectin' a friend than of disease or 'unger." Eponine said sadly.

Christine pursed her lips, tears threatening to spill out of her eyes. "Do you know the songs?" she asked, her clear voice cracking.

Eponine nodded. "Yes,"

Christine nodded. "Then go out there and do a damn-well show." she said.

Eponine nodded, and Raoul quickly ushered Christine away, leaving the street girl alone.

Eponine sighed, and she tried to control the fear that was slowly rising in her. Putting her head up high, she strode towards the stage, and picked up the basket of roses. Taking a deep breath, Eponine looked onstage as the curtain opened, and the performers began.

Eponine wasn't really listening to the lyrics, only the phrase "Here the sacrificial lamb utters one despairing bleat" passing into her ears. Sacrificial indeed.

Eponine watched as Piangi came onstage, and sang his duet with "Pasarino," and had the circumstances been different, she would have felt a little sick at the thought of having to sing with him.

"_Conquest is assured, if I do not forget myself and laugh!"_ Piangi sang, laughing as he exited the stage.

Taking a deep breath, Eponine walked on, looking up at the chandelier in an attempt to calm her quickly-beating heart.

"_No thoughts within her head but thoughts of joy,_

_No dreams within her heart but dreams of love!" _Eponine sang, her voice wavering slightly. What was she thinking? The Phantom would know right away that she wasn't Christine! Oh, what had she gotten herself into?

Eponine sat down on the stage and began to pick at the roses, vaguely hearing the exchange between "Don Juan" and "Pasarino." But . . . there was something off about Piangi's voice. It didn't sound quite right . . .

"_You have come here,_

_In pursuit of your deepest urge._

_In pursuit of that wish which till now_

_Has been silent," _

Eponine had to stop herself from whipping her head to look at the man in the Don Juan costume. That was _not_ Piangi.

"_Silent," _the impersonator sang, putting a finger to his lips. Eponine gulped when she saw the feral look in his eyes. She knew those eyes.

Oh, _merde_.

"_I have brought you_

_That our passions may fuse and merge!_

_In your mind you've already succumbed to me_

_Dropped all defenses_

_Completely succumbed to me._

_Now you are here with me_

_No second thoughts_

_You've decided,_

_Decided." _the Phantom sang.

Slowly, Eponine rose to her feet, keeping her eyes trained on the man in front of her. Her heart was beating even faster now.

Oh, she was so screwed.

"_Past the point of no return,"_ the Phantom sang, slowly walking towards Eponine, his stride more like a saunter. A sensual saunter. Eponine gulped. Truer lyrics had never been sung.

"_No backward glances_

_Our games of make-believe _

_Are at an end,"_ he continued as he drew closer to her. Eponine kept her eyes trained on him. She _must_ have been insane to have agreed to this!

"_Past all thought of if or when_

_No use resisting_

_Abandon thought _

_And let the dream descend." _the Phantom sang as he circled the girl. _Like a vulture_, Eponine thought.

Eponine let out a soft startled cry as the Phantom suddenly grabbed her by the throat. Oh, _mon dieu_, he knew. He knew she wasn't Christine and he was going to strangle her.

"_What raging fire shall flood the soul? _

_What rich desire unlocks its door?_

_What sweet seduction lies before us?" _the Phantom sang, drawing his hand – it was ungloved, Eponine realized with a shiver – across her collarbone, over her bare shoulder and down her arm until he had her hand in his grasp.

"_Past the point of no return_

_The final threshold_

_What warm unspoken secrets_

_Will we learn_

_Beyond the point of no return?"_ the Phantom sang, releasing Eponine's hand and stepping back, looking at her expectantly.

Eponine opened her mouth, knowing it was her cue. She wasn't sure if he knew that it was her and not Christine, but she had to continue the song. If she revealed him now, he would just flee.

"_You have brought me_

_To that moment when words run dry_

_To that moment when speech disappears into silence_

_Silence_

_I have come here_

_Hardly knowing the reason why,"_

It was true. She didn't know _why_ she had agreed to this insanity.

"_In my mind I've already imagined_

_Our bodies entwining _

_Defenseless and silent,"_ Eponine sang, turning to look at the Phantom, that feral and excited look in his eyes.

"_Now I am here with you_

_No second thoughts_

_I've decided,"_

It was her choice.

"_Decided,"_ Eponine gulped. She _really_ didn't like that look he was giving her.

"_Past the point of no return_

_No going back now_

_Our passion play has now at last begun,"_ Eponine sang as she slowly ascended the wooden stairs, the Phantom doing the same across from her, his eyes watching her intently. Oh, mon dieu, she was afraid she was going to burn with the heat from his eyes! And she had thought some of her father's friends scared her.

"_Past all thought of right or wrong_

_One final question_

_How long should we two wait before we're one?"_ Eponine sang, _really_ not liking that glint in his eyes.

"_When will the blood begin to race?_

_The sleeping bud __**burst**__ into bloom?_

_When will the flames at last __**consume**__ us?"_ Eponine sang, having reached the top of the stairs. She gulped when the Phantom threw back his cape. She would have really liked having that between them.

"_Past the point of no return,"_ Eponine sang, the Phantom joining her, his voice entwining with hers. Eponine shivered. She didn't like that sensual feel she was getting from singing with him.

"_The final threshold,"_ they continued, only inches apart from each other. Eponine could feel his breath on her face. And that look in his eyes was so intense that Eponine was afraid he would burn a hole right through her face.

"_The breach is crossed,"_ their foreheads were touching now, and their hands clasped together. What if he felt the callouses on her hands? Would he then know that she had grown up on the streets instead of the comfort of a home? But the Phantom spun her around so her back was pressed against his chest, and his hands covering her own as they lay on her stomach. But his hands were larger than hers, so she could still feel his fingers through the corset.

"_So stand and watch it burn_

_We've past the point of no return," _they sang together. Eponine felt the Phantom press his face into her hair, and the sudden fear that he would know it was a wig passed through her. But he betrayed nothing that revealed whether he knew he was caressing Eponine and not Christine.

"_Say you'll share with me _

_One love_

_One lifetime,"_ the Phantom murmured in her ear, his voice having lost the husky and seductive tone, now replaced with a gentler, almost vulnerable sound.

"_Lead me _

_Save me _

_From my solitude,"_ he begged, his voice warbling a bit.

"_Say you want me with you_

_Here _

_Beside you,"_ the Phantom sang; his voice full of so much emotion that Eponine turned around to face him in confusion and amazement. How could he go from being so sensual to suddenly so gentle?

"Anywhere you go

Let me go too," the Phantom sang, his eyes full of longing and pain and hope. Eponine knew that look. That was the look that she had given Marius on a number of occasions. Eponine placed her hand on the side of his face, gently rubbing her thumb across his cheek. Oh, how she pitied him!

"_Christine _

_That's all I ask of –"_ the Phantom was cut off as Eponine suddenly ripped the mask from his face, immediately dropping it and clamping her hands over her mouth to stifle the scream.

The audience members didn't do the same.

Screams rang out throughout the theatre. When Eponine had removed his mask, she had revealed what he had hidden from the world. The deformity on the side of his face.

Oh, it was awful! It was as if someone had taken lumps of flesh from his cheek and placed them elsewhere on his face. There were bumps unnaturally placed by his ear, and there were caves that revealed angry red skin on his cheek. His lower eye-lid was drooping, his nose crooked, and even a part of his lip was touched by the deformity. The mangled flesh even reached up past his hair-line – for the black wig he had been wearing was dislodged when Eponine removed the mask, revealing dirty, greasy brown hair that was almost blond. But what touched Eponine the most was the look in his eyes. That look of utter betrayal and hurt. Of course, he thought she was Christine, and he loved Christine.

To him, the woman he loved had just committed the worst betrayal. It would have been like Marius turning Eponine over to the police.

The Phantom drew his sword, and Eponine shrank back in fear, but instead he reached behind her and severed one of the ropes. Eponine blinked in confusion, but looked up suddenly when she heard the chandelier shake. Oh, _merde_ . . .

The Phantom suddenly grabbed Eponine around her waist, and he kicked a lever, activating the trap door. Eponine let out a shriek as they fell down through the fake fire pit and into total darkness. They were in _his_ domain now.

_Baise_, _baise_, _baise_!

* * *

*giggles maliciously* Don't you just love cliffhangers! Oh, and as to what Eponine's saying/thinking in French:

Mon dieu: my god

Merde: crap/sh8

Baise: #^%* (XD, not a word you should be saying aloud. But Eponine's a street girl, and she's got a gutter-mouth.)

Oh, and sorry if I offended anyone who speaks French with that language-usage up there. Totally not my intention. Eponine's just really freaked out right now. Heck, _I'd_ be freaked out!

REVIEWREVIEWREVIEW! I don't ask this unless I'm getting a SERIOUS LACK in reader response! not a happy face there.

~FantasticMisticalWonder (FMW/Wonder)


	8. Down Once More

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Andrew Lloyd Webber and Gaston Leroux own Phantom of the Opera. Victor Hugo, along with Boublil, Schonberg, and Kretzmer own Les Miserables. No need to sick Javert on me!

* * *

He wanted to scream. He wanted to curse Heaven and Hell. He wanted rip everything he saw apart with his bare hands. Why? Why had Christine betrayed him? Why? He had known about the Vicomte's plot, but a part of him had hoped . . . . well, it was a foolish hope. One that was for naught.

Oh, but it had felt so wonderful to hold her in his arms! To caress her . . . thought he was disappointed that the costume designers had made her wear that awful wig.

"Let me go!" Christine shrieked.

"You betrayed me Christine! You betrayed me!" the Phantom shouted in reply.

"Monsieur, _let me go_!" Christine insisted.

The Phantom stopped in surprise and turned around to face Christine, only to have her fist collide with his face. The Phantom stumbled in surprise, and Christine tore her arm from his grasp and ran. But the Phantom quickly recovered from his shock and he growled, lunging after the fleeing girl, grabbing her and forcing her to face him.

"What did you call me?" he hissed.

Christine gulped, her green eyes wide with fear . . . wait, _green_ eyes?

With an outraged cry, the Phantom tore the wig from the girl's head, red hair tumbling down her back.

Eponine smiled nervously up at the Phantom.

"'ello, Monsieur. Lovely show tonight, wasn't it?" she asked.

The Phantom growled in response. Eponine looked down and coughed.

"Right. Well, seein' as there's seemed to be a little mix-up, I'll just be on my way, Monsieur. Nice seein' you!" Eponine said, turning and running down the hall.

But the Phantom took the Punjab lasso he had been concealing on his person and threw it after the fleeing urchin. Eponine let out a startled shriek and the Phantom pulled Eponine towards him, the lasso having fallen about her waist instead of her neck. The Phantom roughly pulled Eponine until they were merely inches apart.

"Oh no, Mademoiselle. You've made your bed. It's time for you to sleep in it." He growled.

Eponine gulped. "I'm not so sure I like what you're suggestin'."

The Phantom glared at her, and he pulled her down the passage. She made quite a struggle, pulling and kicking at him. Finally, the Phantom stopped and turned around – ducking Eponine's fist, only to have her knee him in the face. The Phantom glared at her, and then in one swift move he had slung her over his shoulder.

"Put me down!" Eponine shrieked, her legs flailing uselessly in the air.

"But I wouldn't want you to hurt yourself during the trek, Mademoiselle. It can be quite treacherous." the Phantom said with false concern.

Eponine huffed and mumbled something incomprehensible, but the Phantom was able to make out some very vulgar words. Really, he had half a mind to tie her up and throw her in the lake. But he had a feeling that she would come in handy.

They eventually came to the boat, and by then Eponine had stopped struggling. The Phantom set Eponine on her feet, and then quickly tied her up. He then set her in the boat before stepping in himself, taking the pole and moving the gondola forward.

Eponine had become strangely quiet. And when the Phantom looked down at her, he saw that she was staring at everything around her in amazement and awe. He almost snorted. This girl was looking at Hell as if it were Versailles.

They eventually reached his lair, the gate up in preparation for its master's return. As soon as they were in, the Phantom pulled the lever, closing the gate, and trapping Eponine inside.

"Welcome, to my humble abode, Mademoiselle." the Phantom said, bowing mockingly before pulling the street girl out of the boat.

"You live 'ere?" Eponine asked.

"If you can call me existence living." the Phantom said, releasing Eponine's bonds only to tie her to a chair.

"It must be terribly lonely – ow!" Eponine cried as the Phantom tightened the rope.

"The Phantom needs no one's company." he growled in response.

"I guess my name's 'no one' then," Eponine muttered.

"Try not to talk too much or I will have you gagged." the Phantom warned before turning and walking away.

Let her ponder what he had in store for her. Let her wonder in fear. Let her consider every horrid and awful thing he could do to her.

Even though in truth, he didn't know what to do with her himself.

* * *

Eponine waited in her chair. She had never been big on praying, but right now she was willing to do anything to get out of this. So she prayed. She prayed and hoped and begged and wished for some way out of this mess she had gotten herself into.

"I'm sorry I was so 'orrible to Cosette when we were children. I'm sorry I stole all those things. I'm sorry about givin' myself to Montparnasse when we weren't married. I'm sorry I 'elped my father's gang with their crimes. I'm sorry for every other bad thing I've done. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry," Eponine whispered, hoping that someone was listening.

Eponine looked up when she saw the Phantom enter. He had dressed properly now, his face covered with his usual white mask, a black wig in place, and his wet clothes replaced for dry ones. You would have never guessed that he had just dragged a girl from the above to his lair. That is, unless you saw the unlucky creature tied up behind him. Eponine was tempted to say something sarcastic, but she could tell by the look on his face that he was still extremely angry.

Silently, he walked over to his desk before sitting down and writing something. Eponine strained her neck to see what, but she was at the wrong angle to read something over someone's shoulder. When the Phantom had finished, he folded the note and put it in an envelope before sealing it with his signature red-wax scull.

He tucked the note into his shirt, and he then threw on his cloak and donned a fedora.

"Goin' out for a Sunday stroll?" Eponine asked dryly.

"I have some errands to run," the Phantom snapped before getting on his boat, leaving her sight.

Eponine blew her hair out of her eyes in frustration. "Great, 'e's goin' to kill me with boredom."

* * *

Eponine blew her hair out of her eyes for what felt like the billionth time. How long had she been down there for? An hour? Two hours? Either way, she was extremely uncomfortable. Her leg had fallen asleep, and the ropes were irritating her wrists. She was sure she would have burn marks there. Eponine wiggled a little in her chair. It was solid, and showed no sign of breaking anytime soon. Eponine sighed, and then managed to make her chair jump in her frustration. Why her? Why did _she_ have to be the one tied up in the Phantom's lair? Because she was the idiot who had agreed to take Christine's place, that was why.

But why hadn't he killed her yet? Eponine was sure she was dead as soon as he had realized who he had sung the Point of No Return with. She had seen that look of utter fury in his eyes. But she wasn't dead yet. He hadn't punjabed her, he hadn't thrown her in the lake, and she was still in one piece. Unless his intention was to bore her to death, it appeared that he had some other purpose for her.

And Eponine wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. She remembered his words _"You've made your bed. It's time for you to sleep in it." _She didn't like the sound of that at _all_.

"Oh, _mon dieu_, how am I going to get out of this?" Eponine groaned.

"You're not, Mademoiselle," a chillingly familiar voice said.

Eponine turned around as best as she could to look at the Phantom as he climbed out of the boat.

"Monsieur," Eponine said, a little embarrassed that she hadn't heard him coming.

The Phantom merely smirked at her and took off his cape, doing some ridiculous twirl with it before putting it down.

Eponine had to bite her lip to prevent herself from saying something smart.

"How has your stay been?" the Phantom asked.

"A little cramped, to tell the truth." Eponine said dryly, looking down at her bonds.

The Phantom smirked again. "Then perhaps I can loosen your bonds," he offered, kneeling down beside her and severing the ropes with a knife.

Eponine rubbed her wrists and eyed the Phantom cautiously. "Thank you, Monsieur." It appeared that he had calmed down from his anger.

Eponine wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Here, allow me to show you around," the Phantom said, holding out his hand – gloved again – for Eponine to take.

Hesitantly, Eponine put her hand in his – a sudden trace of deja-vu hitting her – and the Phantom pulled her until she was standing up. Standing, but standing far too close to the Phantom for comfort.

"This way, Mademoiselle," the Phantom said, gently pulling Eponine along. Well, he certainly didn't _seem_ like he was going to kill her, but for all she knew, he could be tricking her. That or he had something else in store for her.

"Why so silent? No witty comments?" the Phantom asked.

"Can't really think of anythin' to say right now," Eponine mumbled.

"Really? That's a first, is it not?" the Phantom asked, chuckling.

"'ow would you know? You 'aven't known me that long, Monsieur." Eponine replied.

"True, I haven't." the Phantom mused, a smile slowly growing onto his face.

Eponine _really_ didn't like that smile.

"So, tell me, 'Ponine, what do you think of my lair?" the Phantom asked.

Eponine looked around at the candles scattered throughout the cavern, at the burned replica of the stage, at the multiple sketches of Christine on his desk and tacked to his wall, at the blood-red roses that seemed to be laying everywhere. Everything looked almost . . . surreal.

"It's beautiful," Eponine said, meaning it.

The Phantom gave a soft chuckle.

"But it looks lonely," Eponine added, turning to look at the masked man.

The Phantom clenched his jaw. "I'm used to it," he replied.

Eponine looked down. He was lying. She knew he was lying.

"Then I guess it must be paradise down 'ere." Eponine said.

"It _was_," the Phantom said.

"What ruined it, Monsieur?" Eponine asked innocently.

"A little mouse," the Phantom said dryly.

"A mouse?" Eponine repeated, amused.

"With a grating voice," the Phantom said.

"Oh, so now I don't only have an awful accent, but I also have an annoyin' voice in general?" Eponine asked, raising her eyebrow.

"Hm? No, haven't you been listening? It's the mouse that has the high voice, not you."

"Uh-huh," Eponine said, not hiding the fact that she didn't believe him. A part of her was wondering why she was being so . . . . _sociable_ with the man who had kidnapped her. But Eponine reasoned that being civil with him was better than him having her tied in a chair. Humor his whims, and she might just live.

"So, tell me, Eponine, what was your life like before you came to the Opera Populaire?" the Phantom asked casually.

Eponine looked at him warily out of the corner of her eye. "Oh, you know, I just lived on the streets. My father was in a gang. They 'ad me be the look-out for the police, but they don't like me so much anymore." Eponine said carefully.

"And why is that?" the Phantom asked.

"I ruined one of their robberies . . . on purpose." Eponine said.

The Phantom raised the eyebrow that was uncovered by his mask. "On purpose? Whatever for?" he asked.

Eponine looked down. "They were goin' to rob one of my friend's 'ouses. And they were inside it. I didn't want them gettin' 'urt." Eponine explained.

The Phantom was silent, and Eponine could tell that he knew she was hiding something. But there was no way that she was going to tell him about Marius. She could act pleasant and sociable with him, but that didn't mean she had forgotten who he was and what he had done. And she didn't want to tell him anything that might give him any leverage over her.

Eponine winced at the thought. Bad word-choice. With really _bad_ images.

"Are you alright, Mademoiselle?" the Phantom asked.

"My wrists hurt, that's all." Eponine lied. Actually . . . they _did_ hurt. Quite a lot. She was just used to ignoring pain.

The Phantom looked down at her rubbed-raw wrists. "Oh, dear, did I do that?" he asked, Eponine not able to tell if his surprise was genuine or faked.

"Here, let me take care of that," he said, gently leading her to a considerably more comfortable-looking chair.

"Don't worry, I won't tie you to this one," he assured her, smiling.

Eponine squinted at him before sitting down. What was he playing at? What was his angle?

"Allow me," he said, holding out some bandages and some salve.

"I probably wouldn't know what to do with them anyways," Eponine said.

The Phantom didn't reply. Instead, he took off his black gloves and dipped his fingers in the salve, a sticky substance clinging to them. He gently applied the paste to her wrists, and Eponine hissed in pain. Merde, that hurt!

"Sorry, the stinging will pass in about an hour." he said as he applied the salve to her other wrist.

"An hour?" Eponine gasped as he wrapped the bandages around her wrists. The cloth was rough, and it only made her wrists hurt even more.

"Are you in pain?" the Phantom asked, looking up at her.

"Oh, no, I'm just actin' like it for the heck of it!" Eponine replied sarcastically. What had he done, applied acid to her skin? She could have sworn the stinging was getting worse!

The Phantom pursed his lips and stood up, walking over to the cabinet he had gotten the salve from. He rummaged around in it for a moment before taking out a small bottle with a clear liquid in it. He took out a goblet and poured some red wine in it before putting a drop of the mystery liquid in it.

"What is that?" Eponine asked.

"A simple drug that doctors use. It should relieve your pain." he said, putting the goblet down on the desk by her. Eponine eyed the goblet like it was full of poison. Actually, for all she knew, it _could_ have been poison.

"I don't trust you," Eponine said, turning to look at him.

The Phantom gave her a small smile. "Then I hope you have an extremely strong endurance for pain, as I'm afraid that the stinging will only get worse."

Eponine glared at him, and then winced as the feeling on her wrists indeed worsened. That bastard. That _bastard_!

"What's in that, really?" Eponine asked, clawing at her wrists now.

"I wouldn't do that, it will only make the pain worse. And I can assure you, it isn't poison. It will not physically or mentally harm you. And you will be alive after drinking it." the Phantom said.

Eponine glared at him, and then winced again. Her wrists were on fire! It felt like they were burning away to nothing! What had he done to her? Tears were running down her face now. She had never felt such pain! But would it be worse if she drank whatever was in the goblet?

Eponine had to choke back a sob as she reached a shaking hand for the goblet. Her fingers wrapped feebly around it, she slowly picked it up, but her hand was shaking so much that she was afraid she'd spill it all. What would happen if she did spill it? Would he leave her to suffer? But those fears were cleared as he wrapped his larger fingers around hers, steadying the goblet. Eponine raised her eyes to look at his, and she glared at him.

"If I'm still able to after this, I'm goin' to kill you," she growled before wrapping both hands around the goblet and downing it in one gulp.

Almost instantly, the pain disappeared, and for one moment, Eponine thought that the Phantom had actually told the truth, and that he was trying to help her. But those thoughts crumbled as her mind became cloudy, and she found that she had trouble thinking straight. The Phantom was grinning triumphantly, and in one last second of clear-headedness, Eponine growled at him.

"Oh, you sick bastard."

* * *

The Phantom frowned as Eponine passed out from the effects of the drug. 'Sick bastard'? What did she think he was going to do to her? Really, it was just amazing that people automatically assumed the worst of him.

Sighing, the Phantom carried Eponine to the swan bed and laid her down on it before exiting. It would take a little while for the "symptoms" of the drug to fully take effect, but he could wait.

Walking over to his organ, the Phantom began to play. He wasn't reading off of music or trying to come up with a melody, he just let his fingers run over the keys. He let his emotions control what was played. The sound that was created was mournful, full of longing and pain. The Phantom closed his eyes and let the music take him. Music. That was the only thing he could ever count on. Music was his only friend, his only company, his only need. Forget Christine. Forget the Vicomte. Forget everything.

Only music is constant. Only music could be trusted.

When the Phantom opened his eyes, he looked at the candle beside him, and saw that it had burned down to a stump. It had at least half of its original height left when he had started playing. About an hour had past.

Standing up, the Phantom walked over to the swan bed, and saw Eponine lying there, her back turned to him.

"Eponine?" he called softly.

"I don't want to talk to you," she grumbled.

"What did I do?" the Phantom asked.

Eponine turned around to face him. "You poisoned me," she said, pouting.

"And yet, you're still alive," the Phantom said.

Eponine looked down at herself as if to check, and made a surprised grunt. "I guess I am!"

"Then am I forgiven?" the Phantom asked.

Eponine considered him, and then smiled. "I guess," she said.

The Phantom smiled and sat down on the edge of the bed, Eponine sitting up and smiling at him.

"I still don't trust you, you know," Eponine said.

"I don't expect you to," the Phantom replied.

"I mean, you _did_ kidnap me. But you've been really nice! I mean, besides the whole tying me up and puttin' that acid on my wrist and then druggin' me." Eponine said.

"I didn't put acid on your wrists: It really was a healing salve. I just added something to make it hurt much more than it needed to. I had to have some way to have you drink the drug willingly, you know." the Phantom said.

Eponine nodded. "That makes sense," she said.

"So . . . tell me more about this robbery that you deliberately sabotaged." the Phantom said casually.

Eponine frowned and blew her hair out of her eyes irritably. "Well, it really all goes back to a few days ago. You see, there was this student, Monsieur Marius Pontmercy, and we 'ad been friends for a few months. But I really liked 'im, and I was waitin' for 'im to see me in the same way. But then 'e saw this girl in the street; a pretty thing who lived at a convent. She wasn't a nun, though. But neither 'e nor me knew that. But as soon as he saw 'er, 'e just fell in love with 'er! Just like that! Barely even said a word to 'er, and 'e was askin' me to find out where she lived and all! I didn't want to, I 'ad seen the way 'e looked at 'er and I'm no idiot, but 'e was so desperate to find 'er! I couldn't bear to see 'im un'appy, so found out 'er address and took 'im to 'er. 'e climbed over the wall to talk with 'er, and the next thing I 'ear they're professin' their love for each other! So I crawl to some corner, not wantin' to 'ear no more, but then I see my father's gang sneakin' up on the place, and I 'ear them talkin' about robbin' it! Then one of the thugs sees me, drags me over, and I threaten to scream if they don't leave! They don't believe me, so I scream, and they run away! Then Marius comes over, thanks me for savin' them and all, but then Cosette's – that's 'er name, Cosette – father appears, so Marius and I 'ave to disappear. And Marius is so 'appy about 'avin found Cosette and all, tells me she's the most wonderful thing in the world, and 'e's completely blind to what I feel!" Eponine exclaimed.

The Phantom frowned. "Why did you show him where she lived, even though you knew that it would only make your chances of him loving you even more slim?" the Phantom inquired.

Eponine looked at him incredulously. "Because I love 'im! I would 'ave never forgiven myself if I 'ad been the cause of 'is un'appiness!"

The Phantom frowned. "But his happiness would have been your unhappiness." he said.

Eponine shrugged. "'is 'appiness seemed more important than mine. I would 'ave died for 'im, you know. 'ell, I still would." Eponine said, her eyes growing misty.

The Phantom frowned, but then decided to change the subject. "So, tell me, 'Ponine, why were you onstage instead of Christine?"

Eponine took a deep breath. "Well, I was against the whole plot from the beginning, you know. I knew you were too smart to be fooled, and that it would only lead to more trouble, but Christine and Raoul wouldn't listen to me, so I just decided to leave it alone. But then the day of the performance came, and I was in costume with my wig on, and Raoul mistook me for Christine! After I 'ad explained who I was, he got this look in 'is eye that a person gets when the get an idea, and 'e asked me if I'd be willin' to go in Christine's place. Christine was against the idea, but I agreed immediately, and since Christine 'ad been givin' me a few singin' lessons, and I already knew the words to the songs and all, I went on instead." Eponine said.

The Phantom frowned. "But you were putting your own safety in danger."

"So? Christine's my friend. It's kinda like what 'appened with Marius; when you love someone, you sacrifice your own 'appiness and safety for their own. Even though it's a different kind of love with Christine, kinda like the sisterly love, you know?" Eponine asked.

The Phantom shook his head, Eponine's logic still confusing him. "No, I don't. I have no siblings. But you were deliberately putting yourself in harm's way!" the Phantom exclaimed.

"But I was keepin' Christine out of it!" Eponine pointed out.

The Phantom sighed, and then shook his head. "Never mind. Get some sleep, Eponine." he said.

"I'm not tired!" Eponine protested.

The Phantom walked over to his cabinet and took out a vial, adding it to a goblet of wine.

"Oh no, I know better than to accept a drink from you," Eponine said, scooting away from him.

"It will only make you sleep." the Phantom said.

"Uh-huh, and while I'm asleep you'll . . . well, you're not goin' to do good things, I can tell you that!" Eponine said, crossing her arms and turning her head away.

The Phantom sighed. "Eponine, what can I say to make you trust me?"

Eponine looked at him and bit her lip. "Swear . . . . swear by your love for Christine!"

The Phantom closed his eyes and looked down. That was binding, and she knew it. "Very well; I swear by my love for Christine, this is only a sleeping drought, and I will not physically or in any other way harm you while you are under its influence." he said.

Eponine frowned, trying to see if he had left any loop-holes open, no doubt. But she could apparently not find any, or her drug-befuddled brain was not up to the task, as she sighed and willingly took the goblet from him.

"If I die, stay away from my funeral," she said before downing the drink.

When nothing happened, she squinted down at the goblet, as if trying to determine something wrong with it, but then her eyes rolled back and she fell onto the bed, asleep.

The Phantom sighed and picked up the fallen goblet, placing it on the table. Well, he had gotten the information he had wanted from her, but now what was he to do with her? Looking down at her sleeping form, he couldn't help but remember what she had said.

"_When you love someone, you sacrifice your own 'appiness and safety for their own."_

The Phantom shook his head. That was foolishness. Foolishness that would only get her killed one day.

Sighing, the Phantom donned his cloak and fedora before gingerly picking up the sleeping gamine. There was no need to keep her down here any further. Besides, there was no doubt she would give him an earful once she had woken up and was in her right mind. And it didn't feel right to throw her in the lake.

* * *

Enjolras walked into the ABC Café, sighing. The paper that morning had relayed what had happened at the Opera Populaire, and he and the rest of the Friends of the ABC – including Marius and Grantaire, the latter having actually managed to stay sober – spent all night searching for the street girl who had been reported missing, along with Christine Daae and the Vicomte de Chagny. Piangi, the leading tenor, had been reported dead. The Opera House was totaled, and the police were unable to search the labyrinth below it due to all of the known entrances – the whereabouts provided by a woman named Madame Giry – having been destroyed either by the fire or the Phantom himself.

Sighing, Enjolras sat down and ran his hand through his tangled curly blond hair. He was about to pour himself a drink of what he hoped was some extremely strong alcoholic drink when he stopped, his ears pricking. He heard something. It sounded like the steady breathing of a sleeping person.

Standing up, Enjolras quietly and slowly walked towards the source of the sound – most likely a drunken patron of the café – until he reached one of the couches before the fireplace. Looking down at the figure lying on the couch, Enjolras almost let out a cry of relief.

It was Eponine, still in her costume from _Don Juan Triumphant_.

Enjolras looked around, and then back at the sleeping girl. He walked over to the coat rack and removed his jacket, walking back over to where Eponine lay before draping it over her.

He would stay here until she woke. God knew what she had been through, and she would no doubt be traumatized when she woke up.

And so Enjolras sat down at a table, poured himself a considerably lighter in alcohol content drink, and waited.

Early that morning, the sun rose, the sky red with the disaster of what had happened at the Opera House. And at the ABC Café, a cry could be heard.

"That sick bastard!"

* * *

Aaand story-arc one is over with! XD Don't worry, the story itself isn't over yet. There's still a lot more to come!

I hope I updated soon enough so my readers won't Punjab me. XD

And to Erik Destler, I figured you weren't reviewing this because of it not being Erik/Christine. XD But thank you for reviewing anyways.

That being said, to my OTHER readers, PLEASE REVIEW!

Thank you.

~FantasticMisticalWonder (FMW/Wonder)


	9. A Little Fall of Rain

Disclaimer: I own NADA. Phantom of the Opera is copyright to Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber. Les Miserables is copyright to Victor Hugo, Boublil, Schonberg, and Kretzmer.

* * *

It was a cool night in Paris. The moon was full and bright, and the air was foggy. There was an ominous feel to it.

This was most likely due to the gathering police, and the barricade being built outside of a tavern.

A lone figure ran towards the barricade, and from the looks of it, the figure was a young boy, scrawny and dirty. Quickly, the boy scampered up the barricade, and immediately joined the young students who were busy loading their guns. And readying their positions for the upcoming battle.

"Here, boy, could you help me with – Eponine?" a serious-looking student with blond who went by the name Enjolras exclaimed.

"'ello, Monsieur Enjolras!" the girl – for it was a girl – laughed nervously.

"Eponine, what are you doing here? This is no place for you," Enjolras said, frowning.

"You know very well why I'm 'ere, Monsieur," Eponine said, her eyes traveling over to look at the dark-haired student Marius Pontmercy.

Her efforts at the Opera Populaire had been in vain: she was still hopelessly in love with Marius. The excitement with the mystery of the Phantom had distracted her, but it had done nothing to heal her broken heart.

Enjolras sighed. "God, Eponine, the things you do sometimes. And for that fool as well! If you continue on like this, you're going to get yourself killed! I want you to go and leave before the fighting starts!"

Eponine put her hands on her hips and glared at Enjolras. "I'm not leavin', and there's nothin' you can do to make me." she said stubbornly.

Enjolras looked at the determined set of her jaw and sighed before making a gesture of his hand that signaled he had given up. Shaking his head, he walked over to where Marius Pontmercy stood, and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Marius, I'm going to need your help," Enjolras said.

Marius turned around in surprise. "With what?" he asked.

By way of answer Enjolras jerked his head in the direction of the disguised Eponine, and Marius frowned in confusion.

"What? Who is that?" he asked.

Enjolras gave Marius a look that clearly said 'Are you daft?' and Marius' eyes opened wide after a moment more of studying they not-boy.

"Good God, it's 'Ponine!" Marius exclaimed.

"Exactly, and she's not listening to me, so I need you to convince her to leave." Enjolras said.

"Why me?" Marius asked.

"You know very well why," Enjolras said, giving Marius a hard look before turning to attend to the preparations for battle. After a few minutes, Marius came running back up to Enjolras, a satisfied look on his face.

"Did you get her to leave?" Enjolras asked.

"Yes! I told her to deliver a letter to Cosette for me!" Marius said proudly.

Enjolras groaned and slapped his forehead. "_Mon dieu_, Pontmercy!"

"What?"

* * *

Eponine ran from the barricade towards twenty-four Rue Plumet, tears stinging her eyes. Even after being thought dead his mind was still entirely consumed by Cosette! Eponine furiously wiped her eyes and looked down at the letter in distaste. She had half a mind to throw it in the Seine. But no, no, the words she had spoken to the Phantom echoed in her mind. Sacrificing her happiness for his. That's what loving him meant. Sighing, Eponine tucked it in her coat and ran faster. If she was quick about it, she could return to the barricades before the fighting started. She knew Enjolras and Marius wouldn't be happy about that, but who cared? Her life meant nothing. She had spent the last few days dodging the members of the Patron Minette, so it was obvious her parents wouldn't be welcoming to her. And the Opera House was gone, and as far as she knew, they hadn't started anew somewhere else. She had no future ahead of her. She would rather go at the barricades than of next-year's winter. In fact, a part of her wished that the Phantom _had_ killed her when he captured her. God knows that would have spared her a lot of heart-ache.

The Phantom. Just the mere thought of him annoyed Eponine. She still hadn't forgiven him for drugging her, _twice_, even though the second time was of her own free will. But she was . . . well, _drugged_, so she wasn't thinking clearly. And to make matters worse, no one believed her when she told them about the underground lair or the Phantom. They said she was traumatized from the disaster, that her mind had made it all up to protect itself from insanity. Eponine shook her head. She knew what she had seen and heard. The Phantom had captured her, and it was all real.

Eponie looked up when she saw that she had arrived at the Rue Plumet. Cautiously, she edged towards the gate, keeping her head down.

"Cosette," she whispered.

No answer.

"Cosette!" she whispered a little more urgently.

"Who's there?" a deep voice thundered.

Eponine gulped but stood her ground. Peaking up from underneath her hat, she saw Cosette's father come down the cobblestone path and up to the gate.

"I 'ave a not for your daughter, Monsieur. It's from a boy at the barricade," Eponine said, trying to make her voice sound deeper and more like a boy's.

"I'll take it," her father said, holding out his hand.

Eponine stepped back. "I was told specifically to give it to your daughter," she insisted.

"You may rest assured, Cosette will have it by morning," the man said.

Eponine looked up into the man's eyes, and in them she saw nearly all the sadness and pain in the world, along with fear and apprehension. But there was also kindness in them. A kind of soft and gentleness to them. Nodding her head, deciding she could trust his word, Eponine handed the letter to Cosette's father, and in return, he put three francs into her hand.

"Thank you. And be careful; tonight is not a night for wandering about." Cosette's father warned.

Eponine nodded before turning and running away. Clenching the money in her hand, Eponine thrust it into her pocket. Why did everyone think she wanted money? Just because she was poor . . . no. Eponine shook her head. There was only one thing in this world that she wanted, and no one could give it to her. No one.

* * *

The Phantom was wary about going out that night. The Vicomte had set the police after him, and he had heard the whispers of the barricade being built. There would be blood spilt tonight, whether it was the blood of schoolboys or the blood of the police. But it would still be blood. Bullets would be flying, and although the Phantom wanted more than anything for his existence to end, he didn't want to die _up there_, where someone could find him, and his deformity could be seen and ridiculed. He didn't want them to find his body that way. No, no trace of the Phantom could be found.

But, he was out of provisions, and Madame Giry knew naught of his location, and as a result did not know that he was in need of food and such. And since the Opera's kitchens were currently . . . . out of service, he would have to go to the surface if he didn't want to starve. He may have wanted to die, but he wanted it to be quick, not drawn out and painful like starvation, though he most certainly deserved it.

So the Phantom cautiously went above, and he looked around. All of the shops nearby were closed, and he would prefer to do his theft – if he had to resort to that – farther away from the remains of the Opera House so as to not be discovered.

As he searched, someone ran into him, and then Phantom let out a string of curses.

"Well, _pardon me_, Monsieur," the voice of the boy who had bumped into him said sarcastically before running off.

The Phantom looked up suddenly, and then back at the fleeing boy. He knew that voice. Could it be . . .

His thoughts of food gone, the Phantom silently followed the boy, unable to see his face due to the cap he was wearing. But there was something definitely familiar about the way he ran.

The boy tripped eventually, and his hat came flying off, long red hair splaying out as a result of the hat being knocked off.

Eponine. He knew it.

From the looks of her clothes, she had fallen back into poverty, though for all the Phantom knew, it could be a part of her disguise. After muttering a few string of curses, Eponine put her hat back on, tucked her hair underneath it, and started running again. The Phantom frowned. Where was she off to?

The Phantom continued to follow the street girl, and soon, the sound of gunshots reached his ears. The Phantom's eyes opened wide as he remembered that her friends were Revolutionaries. Which meant that they were at the barricade right now . . .

Damn. That girl really _was_ an idiot!

Eponine continued to run towards the sounds of the guns, and the Phantom continued to follow her. Eventually, the barricade came into sight, and Eponine crouched down behind a building, watching the battle intently. The Phantom wondered if she was just going to watch the battle from there, but then she suddenly darted towards the barricade, and the Phantom cursed out loud. Did she want to die?

She nimbly climbed over the barricade, and she flinched whenever some bullets came to close to her. The Phantom quickly darted to the sewers, knowing that they would lead to inside the barricade. The girl was probably too daft to think of using them. That, or she didn't know about the tunnels. The police probably didn't.

When the Phantom emerged, he saw that Eponine had made it over the barricade, and he hid in the shadows as a dark-haired Revolutionary approached her.

"Eponine! What were you thinking? You could have gotten killed!" the boy exclaimed.

"I did as you asked. I delivered the letter to Cosette's father . . . oh, _mon dieu_, I don't think I can stand," Eponine gasped, falling forward only to be caught by the student.

"Eponine are you alright? Wait, what's this . . . ?" the boy asked, pulling one hand away. The Phantom's eyes opened wide. The boy's hands were covered in blood.

"Oh, God, Eponine," the boy gasped, laying the girl down, her head on his lap as he opened her coat. Her entire front was soaked in blood.

"Oh, God, it's everywhere," the student gulped.

Eponine smiled weakly up at the student. "Oh, Monsieur Marius, you don't need to worry. It actually doesn't 'urt at all," she said, gasping right after. She was obviously lying.

"A little fall of rain never 'urt anyone. And it certainly can't 'urt me. Not now. In fact, it'll make nice pretty flowers grow! Just you wait and see," she laughed, looking down at her blood-stained shift.

"It'll make pretty red-roses grow, just like these," she said.

Marius' face was stricken, and he held Eponine tighter. "Don't worry, 'Ponine. You'll live. You'll live a hundred years if I have anything to say about it," he gulped.

Eponine smiled up at him, and the Phantom saw the absolute love and adoration that she had for this young man in her eyes. He remembered what she had told him in her drug-induced haze, and knew that this Marius was the same one who had caused her so much grief. He had never really thought about it until now, but as he looked at the hopeless longing and love on her face, something inside him clicked. And in that instant, the Phantom felt overwhelming pity for someone other than himself. This girl, she knew the pain he had felt when he saw Christine with the Vicomte. She knew what it was like to love someone and to have them love another. She knew about that kind of heart-ache and pain.

"Oh, Monsieur Marius, you don't need to fret! You're here, and you'll protect me. You'll keep me safe and warm, and at last I'm in your arms." Eponine sighed, closing her eyes. "This rain is a blessin', not a curse. At last . . . I'm 'ome," Eponine said before wincing again, Marius gathering her up even closer, his eyes wet.

At that moment, a handful of students entered from out of the tavern, amongst them the student who the Phantom had seen drunk at the café, a young boy, and the blond student who had danced with Eponine at the Masquerade. They were all discussing something, but they stopped the moment they saw Eponine in Marius' arms.

"Oh, _mon dieu_," the blond student gasped.

"Hush, dear Eponine. I'm here. I'm here," Marius soothed, though it was obvious from his voice that he was trying to hold back tears.

Eponine smiled dreamily. "And that's all I need to know." she said, wincing again and gripping Marius' arm tightly.

"Don't leave me," she whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks. Whether they were of physical or emotional pain or both, the Phantom could not tell.

"I won't. I'll stay till you're asleep," Marius assured her, placing his chin on her head and stroking her hair comfortingly.

Eponine smiled in relief. "Don't fret," she laughed. "The rain, it's washin' away the past, you see?" the Phantom could see that she was having trouble keeping her eyes open now. "It'll clean up everythin' nice a shiny. And, you know what else it'll do?"

"What?" Marius asked, his voice cracking.

Eponine smiled. "Well, it'll, it'll make nice and pretty flowers . . . it'll make them . . ." she trailed off, her eyes closing and her head falling against Marius' chest, no longer able to support itself. Tears rolled down Marius' cheeks.

"It'll make the flowers grow," he croaked.

There was a moment of silence as everyone stared at Eponine's still body, and eventually Enjolras stepped up.

"She was the first of us to fall. Brave Eponine, the first to fall upon the barricade." Enjolras said.

Marius nodded, closing his eyes tightly, tears still escaping. "Yes, brave Eponine, the girl who was unafraid, although her life was cold and dark," he whispered.

"We shall fight in her name," Enjolras announced, raising his voice for everyone to hear.

"She will be the form of our Patria! The reason we are here! Because of the carelessness of our government, this girl lived nearly all her life on the streets, always hungry, constantly wondering if the next winter would be her last! But did she back away? Did she lose the will to live because of this? No! No, she was strong, and she believed that there was something better in store for her! They, _they_ have deprived her of that, but we will make sure that others like her are not victimized of that same crime!" Enjolras exclaimed.

Marius nodded. "Yes, yes she would have liked that," he whispered, kissing her forehead.

Enjolras looked down, and his eyes softened.

"Courfeyrac, Bahorel, you two take her into the tavern. She shall not be lost in the sewers. Joly, I want you to have a look at her." Enjolras said, whispering the last part.

The three students nodded, and two of them – who must have been Courfeyrac and Bahorel – gently picked up Eponine, her head lolling back and her hat falling off of her head and onto the pavement. Enjolras reached down to pick it up, but a sudden gust of wind blew it away, right in front of the hidden Phantom. Hesitantly, the Phantom stooped down and picked up the hat. It was dirty and grimy and tattered, but it still held. It was made of a sturdy material, only a few scratches and nicks in it. Like her. Worn and dirty, but strong.

Looking up, the Phantom climbed through a window into the tavern, and watched from the shadows as Courfeyrac and Bahorel laid the girl down on a table. A student who must have been Joly took out a medical beg and examined the girl, using his stethoscope to check her heartbeat and such. Enjolras entered as Courfeyrac and Bahorel exited, and he looked at Joly expectantly.

"Well?" he asked.

Joly sighed. "She's still hanging on, but only barely. I doubt she'll last the night. She might have a chance if I had the proper equipment with me, but I wasn't able to bring all of my supplies with me. And it's too dangerous to move her. You'd have to be invisible to get her past those soldiers out there." Joly said.

Enjolras nodded, and Joly walked past him, gently putting his hand on the student's shoulder before exiting.

After Joly left, Enjolras walked up to Eponine, and the Phantom watched as he gently brushed a piece of her hair off of her face, and kissed her forehead.

"Marius was a fool," he said, standing up straight and turning to walk away.

The Phantom waited until Enjolras had left before coming out of his hiding place and walking up to where Eponine lay. He put his ear above her mouth, and he could hear her faint breath. It was true. She was alive, but only barely.

The Phantom looked at the door, and then back at Eponine. He couldn't just waltz out the front door with Eponine, the students would shoot him down.

But he could easily waltz out the back door, the Phantom thought as he surveyed the room.

Pursing his lips, the Phantom looked down at the gamine, her face pale with the loss of blood. He ripped off a piece of his cloak and wrapped it around her stomach where she had been shot. He then removed his cloak entirely and wrapped her in it to help make her more concealed. Then, the Phantom picked her up, and walked out the back door with the street gamine in his arms.

* * *

"Daroga! Daroga, open up this damn door!" the Phantom shouted, pounding on the front door of a house in the eastern part of Paris.

"Uh . . . I'm not home!" a voice from inside cried.

"Daroga! Nadir, you booby, open up!" the Phantom cried, pounding even harder.

The Phantom stopped when he heard the sound of the door being unlatched, and a pair of bright black eyes looked out from the inside cautiously.

"What do you want?" the voice asked hesitantly.

"Nadir, it's me." The Phantom said.

The door opened wide to reveal a Persian man, his eyes wide with shock.

"Erik, by Allah, what are you doing here?" Nadir asked in surprise before looking down at the girl in the Phantom's arms.

"Erik, dammit, who'd you kill this time?" Nadir asked, irritated.

"She's not dead yet. She was shot at the barricades," the Phantom exclaimed.

Nadir's eyes opened wide, and he nodded, opening the door even wider, and the Phantom quickly entered Nadir's home, the Persian quickly closing and locking the door behind him and then running over and clearing off a table for the Phantom to set the girl on.

"Here, let me have a look at her," Nadir said, bringing out some medical supplies and examining the girl with his instruments.

"I figured you'd have some medical experience." Erik said.

Nadir nodded. "I was the Daroga back in Persia, and I had to have some knowledge of medicine so all of my men didn't die on the job," he said, his eyes on Eponine as he unwrapped the bandage around her torso and wincing when he saw all of the blood on her.

"I'm going to have to remove the bullet," he said, taking out a pair of pliers from his bag.

Erik nodded and turned around, walking towards the drawing room.

"I'll leave you to your work," he said before sitting down on the couch.

He wasn't entirely sure why he had saved her from the barricades. When she had been at the Opera House, she had just been a thorn in his side, always snooping about and ruining his plan the night of _Don Juan Triumphant_. And goodness knows that she wouldn't be exactly thrilled to see him: after all, he did try to kill her a number of times, insult her an even greater number of times, and kidnap her then drug her two times. Not exactly reason to welcome him with open arms.

Maybe it was because of that similarity he had seen between them. Maybe it was because of that pity he felt for her. Maybe it was in an effort for repentance: saving a life to help atone for all of the lives he had taken. But whatever the reason, what was done was done. He had saved her, and there was no going back from that.

After an hour, Nadir entered the drawing room, wiping the blood off of his hands with a handkerchief.

"It's up to her now, I've done the best that I can." he said.

"She's strong and incredibly stubborn, she'll make it." Erik said.

"Who is she, Erik? I doubt she's that Christine girl, she looks more like a street urchin to me." Nadir said, sitting down across from the Phantom.

Erik sighed. "Her name's Eponine. She was the newest member of the chorus at the Opera Populaire. Obviously that position was terminated when it burned down." Erik said.

"Ah, yes, I wonder whose fault that was." Nadir said sarcastically.

Erik glared at the Persian. "She was at the barricades and she got shot. I overheard their physician say that she was barely alive, and that she would only survive if she got proper medical attention. So I brought her here." the Phantom said.

Nadir scratched his chin. "What _were_ you doing at the barricades, Erik? You never struck me as the Revolutionary type."

"Curiosity, mostly," Erik replied. The Daroga didn't have to know that Erik had been following Eponine. He'd get the wrong idea.

"And you know what they say about curiosity," Nadir said.

"This is one cat that's very hard to kill, Nadir, and you know that." Erik said.

Nadir sighed. "Yes, yes I do. Still, I worry about you sometimes, Erik. I didn't save you from the Shah-in-Shah to have you be killed out of dumb curiosity."

"You seem to forget that after saving me from the Sultana, I was then captured by gypsies and made their biggest attraction for three years." Erik reminded him.

Nadir sighed. "Yes, yes, I remember. But I just don't want you throwing your life away. You have to potential to have a marvelously bright future ahead of you: just think of all of the things you can do with your genius –"

"A bright future? With a face like mine?" Erik exclaimed.

Nadir sighed. "Erik . . ."

"Nadir, people run away and scream in fear when they see me. I'm a monster. The only future I see for me is one of darkness and loneliness." Erik said, standing up and walking away.

"Where are you going?" Nadir cried.

"Back to my pit of despair." Erik answered.

"What about the girl?" Nadir asked.

"What does she matter to me?" Erik replied, slamming the door behind him as he left.

* * *

Woohoo! TWO chapters in ONE day? :O I think that's a first for me. XD

Review!

~FantasticMisticalWonder (FMW/Wonder)


	10. Pity Comes Too Late

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Victor Hugo owns Les Miserables along with Boublil, Schonberg, and Kretzmer. Gaston Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber own Phantom of the Opera.

* * *

_Am I dead?_ Eponine thought as she blearily opened her eyes. She was in a strange room, full of exotic scents and strange tapestries hanging on the walls. It most certainly didn't look like any room in France.

Groaning, Eponine sat up and winced, putting a hand to her middle. Looking down, she saw the bandages wrapped around herself, a little blood seeping through. No, no she was alive. She was fairly certain that physical wounds didn't carry over into the next life, though she could be wrong. It had been a long time since she had gone to church.

Eponine squinted at the room. Where was she? There was something vaguely familiar about the whole look of the place . . . but what was it? She was certain she had never been here before. Eponine frowned. Being shot had obviously not helped her thinking abilities.

With a start, Eponine remembered _how_ she had been shot. The barricades! Oh, what had happened to her friends? What had happened to little Gavroche, to Grantaire, to Enjolras?

What had become of Marius?

Quickly, Eponine swung her feet out of the bed and stood up, almost immediately sitting back down due to the pain in her torso and the sudden rushing of blood to her head. Not a good idea. She had to get up slowly.

Eponine set her feet firmly on the ground, and slowly pushed herself up. There, that wasn't so hard!

Carefully, she walked towards the door, and cautiously opened it. The outside hallway wasn't as nearly ornately decorated, but there still were a few trinkets here and there that looked the same as the decorations in the room.

Quietly so as not to disturb whoever lived here, Eponine crept down the hallway, wincing and putting her hand to her middle. _Merde_, that hurt!

Eponine stepped into what appeared to be the kitchen, and started when she saw a man sitting at the table there, calmly drinking coffee. Looking up suddenly, Eponine gulped as his black eyes bore into hers, his ebony skin seeming to glisten and his curly black hair neatly combed back.

"You're awake, I see." he said, speaking in a strange accent that Eponine was not able to place.

"'ello, Monsieur," she said cautiously.

"How are you feeling, my dear?" the man asked.

"My stomach 'urts a little," she replied warily.

"Well, that's to be expected. You really shouldn't be walking about after nearly dieing. In fact, I'm surprised you survived at all. Erik wasn't exaggerating when he said you were strong and stubborn," the man chuckled.

"Erik?" Eponine asked.

He looked at her curiously. "The man who saved you and brought you to me. You don't know him?"

"'is name is not familiar to me, Monsieur," Eponine replied.

The man frowned. "He's tall, deathly pale skin, wears a mask most of the time . . ."

"Monsieur le Fantomme!" Eponine gasped.

"Ah, yes, I had heard he had been going by 'the Phantom of the Opera' and 'Opera Ghost' now. And he did say you were a chorus member at the late Opera Populaire. I suppose that explains why you only know him as such." the man said.

"'e's the one who saved me?" Eponine asked incredulously.

The man nodded. "Yes, that he is, my dear."

Eponine sat down on a chair in shock. The Phantom? The one who had saved her was the Phantom? Why? Last time she had seen him he hadn't exactly been very fond of her. Unless drugging her, tying her to a chair and putting an acid-like substance – she didn't care _what_ he had said, anything that hurt her wrists that much had to be acid – on her skin was his way of saying he liked her.

"Why?" Eponine asked.

The man shrugged. "I don't know. I was hoping you would tell me."

Eponine looked down and shook her head. "I'm afraid I know as much as you, Monsieur."

"Did you interact with him at all while you worked at the Opera House?" the man asked.

"Well, yes, though I was more of an annoyance to 'im." Eponine said.

The man laughed. "An annoyance! How so?"

"I found a few of 'is secret passages, figured out a some of 'is aliases, and I took Christine's place in _Don Juan Triumphant_ and basically ruined 'is plot to capture 'er." Eponine said.

The man laughed. "Well, if he isn't fond of you, then perhaps he saved simply because you're the most interesting person he's ever met!"

Eponine gave a small smile. "Per'aps, Monsieur."

Smiling, the man held out one ebony hand to her. "My name is Nadir, also known as the Persian and the Daroga."

Eponine took his hand and shook it. "Eponine Thenardier, Monsieur. Sometimes known as the Jondrette girl."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Eponine. Now, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to get back into your room, you really shouldn't be up and about in your condition." Nadir said, gently helping Eponine stand up and leading her to her room.

"'ow long 'ave I been asleep, Monsieur?" Eponine asked.

"A few days, I'm afraid." Nadir replied.

Eponine gulped. A lot could happen in a few days. Many lives could be lost.

For all she knew, all of her friends could be lying lifeless in the sewers.

* * *

The Phantom, also known as Erik, sat in his lair, sketching gently over a piece of paper, his pen fondly drawing out the lines. There were piles and piles of paper, all of them covered in drawings of the same person. Of the same woman.

Christine.

Sighing, the Phantom felt his heart ache as he looked at her picture. It did her absolutely not justice. It would be impossible for him to capture her absolute beauty and perfection on a simple piece of paper. He couldn't even do that with a mannequin. No, they were only pale shadows of the true beauty that was his Christine.

No, not _his_. Not anymore.

Clenching his jaw and fist, the Phantom closed his eyes. How could the thought of her bring him so much joy and pain at the same time? Why? Why did God torture him like that?

Standing up, the Phantom decided that getting out would do him some good. Perhaps he should check on how Eponine was doing.

Not that he cared whether she lived or died. But it would be courteous to at least pay a visit to the Persian after dumping the street girl on his table.

Sighing, the Phantom donned his familiar cloak and fedora before beginning the journey above.

* * *

Nadir started when he heard the nock on the door. He cautiously edged towards the door.

"Daroga!" a voice called.

"He's not here right now!" Nadir replied.

"Nadir, you booby, I know it's you!" the voice replied.

Ah, he had thought that was Erik at the door. Nadir opened the door and glared at Erik irritably.

"Why do you insist on calling me that?" he asked.

"I'm trying to be less deceitful now," Erik replied before entering.

"Of course you can come in," Nadir said sarcastically.

"How is she?" Erik asked, ignoring Nadir's comment.

The Persian crossed his arms. "I thought she meant nothing to you."

"My words were 'what does she mean to me.' It was a rhetorical question. Now, the question I asked you a few seconds before was not of the rhetorical sense, so I suggest you answer it." Erik said.

Nadir sniffed. "Right. Well, she was up this morning, walking about. Tell me, Erik, why did you save her? It sounds like you two weren't the best of friends when she was at the Opera Populaire."

Erik frowned. "She was a nuisance, yes. It seemed like she took special pleasure in making me look like a fool."

Nadir chuckled. "Oh, I thought I liked her when I spoke to her this morning, but now I know for sure."

"Where is she now?" Erik asked.

Nadir raised an eyebrow. "Asleep. She lost quite a lot of blood, you know." he said.

Erik nodded. "Yes, I suppose she did,"

"I can wake her up if you wish to speak to her," Nadir offered.

Erik shook his head. "No, I don't think she'd be very excited to see me."

Nadir nodded. "Very well, is there anything else you were wanting or needing?"

Erik shook his head. "No, no there wasn't." Erik turned away to leave, but Nadir stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder. There was something off about Erik. A certain hopelessness to him that Nadir didn't like at all.

"Erik, are you alright?" Nadir asked.

"I am fine, Nadir. But I would appreciate it if you would let me go. I have things to attend to." Erik replied, his voice hard and sharp.

Wordlessly, Nadir released Erik's shoulder, and watched as the tall man left his apartment. Nadir frowned. There was definitely something wrong with Erik. He had always been moody and detached, but he seemed to be more so than usual.

* * *

A few days passed in which Eponine continued to heal. She came to think of the Persian, Nadir, as a friend of hers. He was certainly nice enough, and he always treated her respectfully and always made sure she was feeling alright. He was the perfect gentlemen, and Eponine enjoyed his company greatly.

She refrained from asking too many questions about the Phantom – or Erik, as it seemed his name was – even though it was apparent that Nadir was previously acquainted with him. It wasn't Nadir's story to tell, and even though Eponine was burning with curiosity, she had a feeling that even if she asked, Nadir wouldn't tell her.

About five days after Eponine first woke up, someone nocked on Nadir's door.

"Go back to your room, Eponine, you shouldn't be up for more than an hour, anyways."

"But Monsieur –"

"Do as I say, Eponine," Nadir said firmly.

Pursing her lips, Eponine nodded, and limped to her room. After closing the door behind her, she pressed her ear to the door.

"Daroga!" a voice from outside called.

"Wrong address!" Nadir called.

"Don't play that game with me, you booby, I need to speak with you!" the voice cried.

Eponine giggled at what he had called Nadir, but was silent when she heard the door open.

"By Allah, Erik, you're white as a sheet! Have you been eating?" Nadir asked.

Eponine gasped. He was here.

"What does food matter to me anymore? Nadir, I feel so lost! I don't know what I'm to do, who to turn to. My life is in shambles!" the Phantom – no, Erik – cried.

"Erik, I want you to sit down, and I'm going to get you something to drink," Nadir said soothingly.

"Anything in high alcohol content would be helpful," Erik said.

"I don't think getting slobbering drunk will help you in your current state, Erik." Nadir said reproachfully.

"What do you mean 'my condition'? I'm perfectly fine!" Erik protested.

"Of course you are," Nadir replied calmly.

"You don't know what it's like, having no one care for you! To never have felt a loving touch! My own mother was disgusted by me, Nadir! I can never remember her once kissing me, holding me when I was scared, or even saying a kind word to me." Erik said, his voice full of pain.

"I know you've lived a hard life, Erik." Nadir said.

"Life! If you can call my existence living! Sometimes I feel that everything would be so much easier if I just ceased to exist!"

"Erik!"

"Don't talk to me like that, Nadir!" Erik exclaimed, Eponine hearing him stand up suddenly.

"I know you're mind, and you only pity me! Oh, poor Erik! Poor unfortunate Erik! Sad ugly Erik!" the Phantom cried.

"Yes, I feel sorry for you Erik. And I would feel even more sorry for you if you were to kill yourself! So, I beg you, do not do such a thing. There are those who care for you. You are just too blind to see it." Nadir said.

There was a moment of silence.

"Thank you, Nadir. This conversation has helped me very much." Erik said quietly.

"Erik?" Nadir asked.

"I think I shall leave now,"

"Don't you want to see Eponine? She's doing much better!"

"I don't think I'd be very welcome. Good bye, Nadir, old friend." Erik said coolly before leaving, the door shutting quietly behind him.

Eponine heard nothing for a while, and scurried back and onto her bed when she heard approaching footsteps. Slowly, the door opened, and Nadir stepped in.

"I assume you were listening?" he asked.

Eponine hesitated, then nodded.

Nadir sighed. "I'm worried about Erik. I don't like the way he was acting when he came here. He's normally not that gloomy. I mean, he can be very reserved and thoughtful, but not to that extent."

"What do you think 'e's goin' to do?" Eponine asked.

Nadir looked up. "Nothing that will harm anyone else, but something irreversible all the same."

"What do you mean?" Eponine asked.

"Eponine, I need a few hours to consider a few things. Could you just stay in here quietly while I do?" Nadir asked.

Eponine nodded.

Nadir sighed. "Thank you. I shall be back soon," he said before leaving, closing the door behind him.

Sighing, Eponine sat cross-legged on the bed, and did something she normally was not very good at.

She waited.

* * *

When the door finally opened, Eponine looked up expectantly, and immediately knew something was wrong. Nadir had this panicked look on his face.

"What is it?" Eponine asked, standing up.

"It's Erik," Nadir said.

"What about 'im?" Eponine asked.

"My fears were correct: Erik is drowning in depression. Very intense and serious depression." Nadir said.

"'ow bad is it?" Eponine asked.

"I fear he may try to take his own life."

Eponine's eyes opened wide.

"Listen, Eponine, I need you to help me stop Erik from doing this," Nadir said.

Eponine nodded. She wasn't exactly fond of Erik, but still, suicide was a sin. As if Erik hadn't committed enough already. The fiery pits of Hell most certainly awaited him if he took his own life.

"What can I do?" Eponine asked.

"I need you to go down to his lair – I believe he is still residing beneath the ruins of the Opera House – and convince him out of it."

Eponine's eyes opened even wider. "What?" she exclaimed.

"Eponine, he will not listen to me. You, however, may be able to nock some sense into him." Nadir said.

"Monsieur, I don't know if you remember, but Erik isn't exactly very fond of me. 'e may just kill me before killin' 'imself." Eponine said.

"If he wanted you dead, he would have let you die at the barricades. Please, Eponine. I know you aren't on the best of terms with him, but please. If not for Erik, for me. We are friends, are we not?" Nadir asked.

Eponine looked into the kind eyes of the Persian, and sighing, she nodded. "Fine, I'll try."

Nadir smiled. "Thank you. I'll owe you."

Eponine shook her head. "Just consider it payoff for lookin' after me while I was 'urt." She said, putting on her familiar coat and hat. By her request, Nadir had kept her old street clothes, but he had cleaned them, so they weren't as grimy as they had been.

"Wish me luck, I'll need it," Eponine said.

Nadir nodded. "All of my luck and prayers are with you, Eponine."

Eponine nodded, and taking a deep breath – and ignoring the slight stab of pain she still got from her wound – she exited Nadir's apartment, and walked into the streets of Paris.

* * *

Eponine looked at the ruins of the Opera House. Everything had collapsed, and there were remnants of soot everywhere. How was she supposed to find a way down to his lair?

Sighing, Eponine hiked up her skirt and trudged through the rubble. She would only find an entrance if she searched for one.

The mirror was probably not the best option, and neither was the entrance above the rafters. So, where to look? Eponine squinted, and her eyes brightened when she saw what looked like the entrance to the kitchens. He had to get food somehow. At least, when the kitchens were still working.

Digging around, Eponine made a cry when she saw a trap-door. It would have been hidden behind the stove normally, but the stove was now a pile of junk. Pulling on it, Eponine fell on her bum as it opened suddenly, and she stood up, wiping the dirt off her skirt before entering the dark tunnel.

The labyrinth below had not been touched by the flames, so Eponine had no obstacles as she walked through the cool and damp passages. Squinting, she followed the sound of water, and eventually she found herself at the edge of the lake. The gondola not being there, Eponine took off her coat, and pulling her hat on tighter, she jumped into the lake. It wasn't that deep, and she could probably walk through it if need be, but it would be quicker to swim through it anyways.

Eventually she came to the gate, and saw that it was closed. The reason being that standing on a chair against it, a noose tied over one of the bars and around his neck, was the Phantom.

"What are you doin'?" Eponine cried in alarm.

Erik turned around in surprise, and then frowned when he saw her. "Leave me in peace, urchin."

"I'd be 'appy to, but I'm afraid that leavin' you in peace isn't goin' to do you much good. Get down from there!" Eponine exclaimed.

"You are not one to tell me what I am to do!" Erik shouted.

"I am when you're not thinkin' properly!" Eponine replied.

"What would you know of that?" Erik snarled.

"I seem to remember bein' drugged by a certain masked man. No relation, I presume. Now get that thing off of your neck!" Eponine cried, running towards him.

"You can't stop me!" the Phantom cried.

Frowning, Eponine took a knife from out of her dress and smartly cut through the rope.

"There, I just stopped you. Now open the gate." she said, her hands on her hips.

Erik glared at her, but he relented, stepping off of the chair and pulling the lever, raising the gate. Eponine walked into the Phantom's lair, and he eyed her warily.

"Can I help you?" he asked irritably.

"You can 'elp me by not tryin' to kill yourself," Eponine replied, frowning at him.

"What do you care about whether I live or die? I don't ever recall us being close." Erik said.

"Oh, I can recall a number of occasions when we were "close" thanks to you tryin' to intimidate me. And I don't want to 'ave your ghost 'auntin' me because I've got a debt to you, if you really must know." Eponine said, crossing her arms.

"A debt?" the Phantom asked.

"You saved my life, remember? Or do they all blur together after a while? Oh, wait, that's the people you've killed." Eponine said sarcastically.

Erik bristled. "If you've come here to just insult me, you may leave. And for your information, I would not _dream_ of haunting you, my little mouse. However, that booby Daroga is another matter." Erik growled.

Eponine raised an eyebrow. "_Those who say what's not theirs to tell_

_Find too late that they should not have spoke at all."_ she sang, deliberately doing a bad impersonation of Erik's voice.

Erik raised an eyebrow in response. "_And those who lurk where they should not_

_Find that they should have learned to use the door." _he replied, singing in an awful imitation of Eponine's accent.

"My voice does not sound like that!" Eponine said indignantly.

"No, but you certainly do lurk where you should not." Erik said.

"Well, at least I don't 'ave one-way mirrors into people's dressin' rooms. That's just creepy." Eponine said.

"Like I ever peeked in on Carlotta. Listen, is there a purpose to you coming down here, or are you my punishment sent from God?" Erik asked irritably.

"You realize you just complimented _and_ insulted me in that same sentence. It would 'ave been better 'ad you called me your punishment sent from 'ell or somethin'. And Nadir was afraid you were goin' to do somethin' stupid. I can see he was right," Eponine said, pointedly looking at the noose still partly around Erik's neck.

The Phantom snorted. "What do you or that booby care about whether I live or die? I should like to think that the world would be better off without me," he said, his eyes suddenly growing very sad. "I have not purpose here. I have been condemned, it would be so much easier on all of us if I were to just end it all – "

Erik was cut off by Eponine's fist hitting him in the face.

"What was that for?" Erik exclaimed.

"I can certainly understand feelin' sorry for yourself and needin' to wallow in that self-pity, but you just do that excessively. That, and I think I should warn you that every time you call Nadir a booby, you make my days of takin' you seriously less and less." Eponine said, putting her hands on her hips.

"I hardly think that's basis for punching me in the face." Erik said, putting his hand to his eye where Eponine had hit him.

"Yes, and happenin' across two of your passages is hardly basis for _effrayer la merde hors de moi_ at the Masquerade." Eponine retorted.

"Fair enough, but you must understand that my trust abilities are very limited." Erik said.

Eponine shrugged. "Sure, I guess I can."

"Because of my face, I have hardly interacted with anyone before. I haven't had the opportunity to build trust because of this curse upon me –" Erik started, once more being cut off by Eponine's fist.

"_Merde_, what was that for?" Erik cursed.

"You were wallowing excessively again. Nadir wasn't kiddin' when 'e said you could be incredibly moody. You're 'opeless," Eponine said, putting her hands on her hips.

"If it was your goal to make me feel better about myself, I'm afraid you're failing miserably." Erik said through gritted teeth.

"I'm not tryin' to make you feel better; I'm tryin' to make sure you don't kill yourself. There's a difference. Now, why don't we sit down, and you tell me why you had these sudden suicidal intentions. And if you get too caught-up in your self-pity, I _will_ hit you again." Eponine warned, sitting down on the stairs that led to the lake.

Erik looked at her and then sighed, sitting down across from her. "Well, let me start with a question that I believe that every person on Earth has asked: what is my purpose in life?"

"If that's what's got you so upset, I'm afraid I can't 'elp you there: I'm no fortune teller." Eponine said.

Erik shook his head. "No. You see, up until a week ago, I thought I knew what my purpose was. I thought it was to teach and love Christine. Obviously, that is not so. She has chosen to love the Vicomte, and in doing so has also rejected the rest of my teachings." Erik said.

Eponine pursed her lips. "So, you think you 'ave no purpose anymore. You think that there's no use for you in this world?"

Erik nodded.

Eponine sighed. "Well then, Monsieur, the answer to your problem is simple."

"What is this answer, pray tell?" Erik asked, looking up.

"Find another purpose," Eponine said.

Erik laughed. "I'm afraid it isn't that easy,"

"Well, you'll 'ave to make it that easy, because I'm comin' back 'ere in a few hours with food for you to eat so you don't starve, and I expect you to 'ave some sort of purpose planned out for yourself. One that doesn't involve you diein'." Eponine said, standing up.

"What?" Erik asked in alarm.

"Oh, and just as somethin' for you to think about: you may think you deserve to die and burn in the pits of 'ell, but do you really want to? Because eternal torture for your immortal soul sounds pretty painful. And that's certainly what awaits you if you kill yourself. Maybe your purpose could 'ave somethin' to do with redemption." Eponine said, looking Erik in the eye before turning and walking away.

"Eponine!" Erik called.

Eponine turned around. "Yes, Monsieur Erik?" she asked.

Erik blinked, probably out of surprise that she knew his name, and then shook his head. "You can use the boat if you want to," he said.

Eponine looked at the gondola, and shook her head. "No thanks, swimmin's more excitin'!" she said, grinning before diving into the lake.

* * *

Erik had cleaned himself off and set a table for dinner, so by the time Eponine arrived again, you couldn't even tell that he had tried to kill himself.

"Good to see you're still alive," Eponine said cheerily, walking out of the water with a basket in hand.

"I hope you didn't get the food wet," Erik said dryly.

Eponine shook her head. "Nope, I took extra care to make sure it wasn't soggy," she said, smiling and setting the basket down on the table.

"So, 'ave you thought of a purpose yet?" Eponine asked as she took out the food.

Erik took a deep breath. "I thought about it, Eponine, I really did, and it seems that the only thing I can do besides scare and murder people is teach. Teach music."

"I swear, if you start wallowin', I am goin' to hit you so 'ard you're not goin' to wake up for a week." Eponine threatened.

Erik shook his head. "No, no, that's not it. But I also thought about what you said, about redemption."

"And?" Eponine asked.

"Well, I thought that perhaps the best option for me at the moment to atone for all of the lives I've stolen is to help another life. Not only to save it, but to give it the hopes of a brighter future, a future that will bring success for this individual and possibly for any children that they may have." he said carefully.

Eponine nodded her head. "Sounds like a good plan. So, what are you goin' to do, give lessons to orphans or something'?" she asked.

Erik shook his head and smiled at the street girl. "No, I doubt they would be able to stand five seconds with me before running away in terror. No, I had one specific individual in mind."

Eponine gulped. She didn't like the way he was smiling at her.

"Eponine, how would you feel about becoming my next student?"

* * *

Yes, I'm evil. *laughs maniacally*

Review!

~FantasticMisticalWonder (FMW/Wonder)


	11. Learn Your Lessons Well

Disclaimer: I own nothing. You know the drill. Leroux and Webber own Phantom, and Hugo, Boublil, Schonberg, and Kretzmer own Les Mis.

* * *

Eponine blinked, sure she had heard him wrong. "Pardon?" she asked.

"Eponine, I want _you_ to be my next student," Erik said.

Eponine stared at him. "You want to . . . you want to be my teacher? You want to teach me to sing? That's what you want your purpose to be?"

Erik nodded.

"Are you insane?" Eponine exclaimed.

"Apparantly so. Eponine, I know that you and I are not on the best of terms – "

"You drugged me!"

" – but please; teaching is the only thing I can do."

"Then teach some orphans, or some other street urchin!"

"They would run away at the sight of me."

"Blind orphans!"

"Eponine, you are the only person in this world who does not fear me." Erik said softly.

"Nadir doesn't fear you," Eponine said stubbornly, crossing her arms.

"Nadir has lived out most of his life and future." Erik replied, leaning towards Eponine earnestly.

"Eponine, please, you're my only hope. I saved your life; let me save your future as well. You could potentially become the greatest singer in France with my guidance. You would be able to provide for yourself, any children you may have, and their children. Do you really want your descendants living the life on the streets that you have known? Please, Eponine, saving the lives of all of the future Thenardiers or whatever name you chose to take on may be enough to atone for all of the lives that I have deprived of futures. Please, be my redemption." Erik begged, his grey-green eyes pleading with her.

Eponine bit her lip, looking at the Opera Ghost out of the corner of her eye. Letting Erik teach her . . . she really had no interest in learning to sing. Working at the Opera House had served as a way to earn a living and get her mind off of Marius. She hadn't worked there because she had _wanted_ to spend all of her time singing and dancing. And letting _Erik_ teach her would be dangerous. Just look at what had happened with his last student! But as Eponine looked into Erik's eyes, those eyes that had seen too much pain and suffering, that were full of so much sadness and hurt, the little resolve she had against Erik's plan faltered. And she succumbed.

Eponine sighed. "Alright," she consented.

Erik smiled.

"A few conditions, though," Eponine said, holding up a finger.

Erik raised an eyebrow.

"I expect you to give these lessons to me in person – not through a mirror or a wall, I want no secret passages through my mirror, no spyin' on me, and I am not – I repeat, _not_callin' you my Angel of Music." Eponine said, crossing her arms.

"Is that all?" Erik asked.

"For now," Eponine replied.

Erik leaned back in his chair, an amused smile on his face. "Very well, I shall invoke all of my willpower to comply. I'm afraid my will is very weak at the moment though, my dear."

Eponine huffed. "Well, stop your smirkin' and eat, or you won't be able to teach me."

"Whatever you say, mother dearest."

* * *

When Eponine got back to Nadir's apartment, she was exhausted. She hadn't even started her lessons, and yet the gravity of the decision she had made took its toll on her. Erik was right when he had said that his teaching her would bring her a brighter future. By giving him permission to teach her, by becoming his student, she was not only changing his future, but hers as well.

"Eponine, is that you?" Nadir asked.

"You would not believe 'ow many times Erik called you a booby," Eponine mumbled.

"Yes, he does that. How did it go? Is he . . ."

Eponine shook her head. "No, I talked 'im out of it," she said.

Nadir heaved a sigh of relief. "Good, I had feared that Erik would destroy himself."

Eponine shook her head. "No, a few blunt words and some repetitive punches to the face made 'im see reason," she said, still leaning on the door.

Nadir frowned. "Eponine, are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm just a little tired," she said, taking her hat off to run a hand through her hair.

"He didn't try to hurt you, did he?" Nadir asked, worry and alarm clear on his face.

Eponine shook her head. "No, no, I just never realized 'elpin' someone find their purpose could be so tirin'." she said.

"What do you mean?" Nadir asked, gently leading Eponine to sit down on the couch.

Eponine sighed. "Erik was tryin' to kill 'imself because 'e felt like there was nothin' left for 'im 'ere, like 'e was no longer needed. I told 'im 'e 'ad to find a purpose, gave 'im a little talk about what was waitin' for 'im in the next life if 'e killed 'imself, and then left, came back 'ere and took some food without your noticin' – sorry about that – and then went back down to 'is lair."

"I was wondering where my chicken went. Then what happened?" Nadir asked, taking a sip of his favorite spiced tea.

"Well, I got back down there, and 'e told me 'e'd figured out 'is purpose."

"That's wonderful news!"

"I'm goin' to 'ave to see 'im tomorrow at nine."

"And why is that?" Nadir asked, taking another sip of tea.

"'e's going to be teachin' me to sing,"

Nadir choked on his tea.

"What?" he spluttered.

"That's 'is purpose now: givin' me a better future. Apparently, I'm 'is 'redemption' now." Eponine said sourly.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Nadir asked, putting his tea down.

Eponine looked down. "I don't know. I mean, I don't _think_ I want Erik to teach me, but I don't want 'im to kill 'imself and suffer eternal damnation, either. But if it's a choice between the two, I'd rather just be 'is student," she said, fiddling with the ends of her hair.

"Well, as long as you're sure. Now, why don't you get some sleep? You've had a long day." Nadir said, standing up.

"And tomorrow's not lookin' much better," she grumbled, standing up and trudging to her room.

Nadir watched her go with a smile. Despite his initial shock, he decided that these lessons would be good for her. Her _and_ Erik. The latter, because being alone in that underground lair of his wasn't doing him any good. Despite his claims of needing no one, Nadir knew that Erik was lonely. If he didn't yearn so for human companionship, then he wouldn't have pursued Miss Daae so fervently. No, Erik needed a friend. Or at least someone to talk to during the day. Hopefully these lessons with Eponine would help ease his loneliness.

And speaking of the street girl . . . she hadn't told Nadir much of her past, but she _had_ told him a little about a certain Monsieur Marius. A young baron whom had stolen her heart. Stolen it, filled it with false hopes, and then shattered it. Nadir had seen the sadness in her eyes when she spoke of Marius, and he had been able to tell how hopelessly in love with him she was. She spoke fondly of the baron's friends, and Nadir hadn't the heart to tell her that they had all perished at the barricades. But something about the way Eponine talked about her Revolutionary friends made Nadir think that she knew. She knew her friends were dead. Either that or she suspected. But she didn't dare ask for that one feeble hope that it wasn't true, that her friends were alive. But a part of her knew that she was alone, that all of her friends were dead. Nadir liked to think that he was Eponine's friend, but he knew that an old Persian man well past his youth was no suitable friend for a young French street-girl still full of life. No, she needed a friend who could understand that pain of feeling alone, who understood the heart-ache of seeing the one you loved fall for another. Nadir couldn't offer that special sympathy that she needed.

But Erik could. And Eponine could do the same for him.

Nadir smiled. It was rather poetic, the two loneliest people on Earth finding comfort in each other. But it would take a while for that trust to build and grow, for friendship to plant its seeds. It would take time for them to heal each other.

_Assuming that they don't kill each other first_, Nadir thought with a chuckle. Allah, he wished he could have seen Erik's face after Eponine punched him.

If nothing, this would at least prove to be interesting.

* * *

When Eponine reached the underground lake, she saw Erik waiting for her in the gondola.

"You will sing better if you're not sopping wet and shivering," he explained.

Eponine pouted, but complied and sat in the boat. "You 'ave absolutely no sense of adventure," she complained.

Erik didn't answer, instead focusing on the guiding the boat. Eponine looked at the glassy surface of the lake and gently dipped her hand into the cool black water.

"Careful, you don't want the eels to bite your fingers off," Erik warned her.

Eponine looked over her shoulder to grin at Erik. "Nice try, but I swam through 'ere yesterday, _débile_,"

Erik's green eyes twinkled. "Ah, but how do you know I didn't release them into the lake this morning?"

By way of answer, Eponine stood up and pushed Erik into the lake.

The Phantom let out a surprised yelp as he fell, and after resurfacing, he spluttered.

"What was that for?" he cried.

"Haha! You're not bein' eaten by eels!" she cried triumphantly.

Erik glared up at her, and put his hands on the side of the gondola and hoisted himself up, only for his weight to throw the boat off-balance and tip it. Eponine shrieked in surprise and glared at the Phantom when she resurfaced.

"_Condamnez-vous_," Eponine grumbled.

Erik smirked and climbed into the gondola, holding out his hand to Eponine. Still glaring at him, she grudgingly took his hand and let him pull her on. The boat rocked a little, but it remained right side up.

"May we continue without further interruption?" Erik asked, raising his visible eyebrow.

Eponine huffed, but she nodded.

"You started it, though," she muttered.

Eventually they reached the lair, and Erik got off the boat first, offering his hand to Eponine. She took it and let him help her off the boat.

Eponine walked over to the organ and turned around in time to see Erik taking off his cloak with that ridiculous twirl again. Eponine rolled her eyes.

"Is that really necessary?" she asked.

"I thought we should start with a fairly easy piece," Erik said, ignoring Eponine's comment and sitting down at the organ.

"But first, we need to warm up. A dip in the lake isn't the best thing to do before singing." Erik said.

"I wonder whose fault that was," Eponine said sarcastically.

"Sing this scale with me: _do-re-mi-fa-so-la-ti-do_," Erik said, his fingers flying over the keyboard.

"Can you do that?" Erik asked, turning to look at Eponine.

"I'll try," she said sarcastically, singing with Erik as he repeated the scale.

"Good, now, I assume you know the chromatic scale?"

Eponine nodded.

"Good, then with me: _do-di-re-ri-me-fa-fi-so-si-la-li-ti-do_," he sang, Eponine joining him.

"Excellent. Now, I want you to repeat after me: It's your father's fault that the curse got placed and the place got cursed in the first place,"

"What?" Eponine asked in alarm.

"It's to help with your diction. Pronounce every syllable. Now, say it."

Eponine did so.

Erik nodded. "Good, I think that should suffice for warm-ups. Now, to the piece you shall be singing," Erik said, putting a piece of sheet music on the stand.

"I assume you know how to read?" Erik asked, turning to face Eponine, his eyebrow raised.

Eponine crossed her arms. "_Yes_, I can; thank you very much,"

Erik nodded. "Good, that should make things considerably easier. You will learn to read sheet-music as we progresss. Now, I'm going to play the melody on the organ, and I want you to copy the melody, but sing the words to it."

"Why can't you just sing the song for me, and I can copy it that way?" Eponine asked.

"This is to help with your ear-training. It shall get easier as you become more advanced. Now, listen." Erik said before playing the tune on the organ. Eponine listened, and almost immediately she was swept up in it. It was beautiful and somber, and she felt the sound plucking at her heart.

"That was beautiful," Eponine gasped as soon as Erik had finished.

Erik bowed his head. "Now, it's your turn: sing with the music."

Eponine frowned; sure that singing would ruin the feel of the song, but nonetheless opened her mouth and sang.

"_I don't know if you can hear me_

_Or if you're even there_

_I don't know if you would listen_

_To a gypsy's prayer_

_Yes u know I'm just an outcast_

_I shouldn't speak to you_

_Still I see your face and wonder_

_Were you once an outcast too?" _Eponine sang, looking at Erik out of the corner of her eye. She had a feeling that this song was close to home, for both of them.

"_God help the outcasts_

_Hungry from birth_

_Show them the mercy_

_They don't find on Earth_

_God help my people_

_We look to you still_

_God help the outcasts_

_Or nobody will."_ The pity that Eponine had felt during Don Juan came back, and she felt compelled to put a hand on Erik's shoulder. But he seemed to be in a trance, completely one with the music. She couldn't break that. Not yet, at least. Besides, it was too intimate a touch. Maybe when they knew each other better. Maybe when they hadn't just stopped being enemies.

"_Others ask for wealth_

_They ask for fame_

_They ask for glory to shine on their names_

_They ask for love,"_ Eponine felt tears stinging her eyes now. There had been a time when she had prayed that God would let Marius look her way and _really_ see her.

"_They can possess_

_They ask for God and his angels_

_To bless them_

_I ask for nothing_

_I can get by_

_But I know so many_

_Less lucky than I,"_ Eponine thought of her friends at the barricades, probably all dead in a ditch somewhere. Yes, she had been fortunate to survive, but they were not. May God guide their souls to salvation.

"_Please help my people_

_The poor and down trod_

_I thought we all were_

_The children of God_

_God help the outcasts_

_Children of_

_God,"_ Eponine held out the last note, a single tear escaping from her eye and running down her cheek. Merde, she had never been such a wreck. Not in any situation that Marius wasn't involved in. She had no idea that a song could reach that deeply into emotion.

Eponine looked down at Erik. His eyes were closed, his head bent over the keyboard, his hands still resting on the keys. Eponine's hand hovered over his shoulder, unsure of whether it should pull back or rest on the Phantom. But almost as if he sensed it, Erik's eyes opened, and Eponine drew back her hand.

"Good, you have potential," he said before turning the sheet music back to the first page.

"Now, you were a little off-pitch here . . ."

* * *

And so it begins. XD

REVIEW!

~FantasticMisticalWonder (FMW/Wonder)


	12. Alone in the Universe

Disclaimer: I own NADA. Hugo, Boublil, Schonberg, and Kretzmer own Les Miserables. Leroux and Webber own Phantom of the Opera

* * *

And so their lessons had begun. Eponine would reach the underground alke at nine, and Erik would be waiting there to row her across. And it was only that first time that they reached the lair sopping wet. Eponine would wait by the organ, make a comment about Erik's cape display – which he would ignore – and then they would begin.

They continued to focus on _God Help the Outcasts_, which Eponine would sing through once, and then Erik would go over parts that he thought she needed work on. After a few hours of such, they would break for lunch, and then they would continue. Eponine would get back to Nadir's at around five. She spent almost eight straight hours every day singing. Eponine was sure that she would hurt her voice, but Erik countered that with pointing out how long most of the Operas were, and how many times a week they were performed.

"They only way for you to improve is through practice, Eponine. I'm sure you've realized that by now." Erik said.

Eponine irritably blew her hair out of her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, no need to slam the message in my face, I can take a 'int." she grumbled.

Erik nodded. "Good. Now, let's go over measure fifty-six again . . ."

Nadir was constantly supportive about Eponine's lessons. Whenever she got home – strange, she was starting to think of Nadir's home as her own – he would always have dinner ready, and he would inquire as to how her lessons were going. And she would reply by saying something like "Oh, same as usual. Erik was relentless and moody. 'e was wallowin' an awful lot so I 'it 'im. 'e called you a booby at least five times, but 'e didn't try to Punjab me and I didn't push 'im in the lake, so better than usual."

Erik actually never had tried to Punjab Eponine, but he had threatened to do so on a number of occasions when Eponine was being too sarcastic for his liking. And Eponine would respond by reminding him of how the last time he had tried Punjabbing her went.

They bantered and argued quite a lot during these lessons.

And yet, Eponine found that she wasn't as frightened of Erik as she had been. She no longer wondered if she pushed him to far he would lash out and destroy her. No, her view of him had changed when he saved her from the barricades. She didn't know if she'd go as far to call Erik a friend yet, but an acquaintance, yes. Not her enemy. Not her foe. And Eponine was grateful for that.

A few weeks after her lessons had begun; there was another incident that strengthened the slowly growing trust between Erik and Eponine.

Eponine was walking home after her singing lesson, her shawl wrapped protectively around her shoulders. Nadir had insisted that she start dressing like a proper lady, and Erik had agreed, saying that she would have to start getting used to singing with a corset on.

Eponine huffed and pulled her shawl around herself tighter. What was the _point_ of a corset? She could hardly _breathe_ in the damn thing, much less sing in it. But Erik had just spouted some nonsense about "helping with breath support" before she made another sarcastic comment and he threatened to Punjab her.

"Well well well," look who's all prettied-up," a smooth voice said, giving a low whistle.

Slowly, Eponine turned around, and her eyes opened in surprise.

"Montparnasse, is that you?" she exclaimed.

The young man stepped out of the shadows, smiling down at her.

"Why so surprised? Not all of your friends died at the barricades, you know," he said.

Eponine felt a pang, and glared at him. "What are you doin' 'ere?" she asked, stepping away from him.

"I think the better question would be what are you doing here? And dressed so finely, too." Montparnasse said, reaching out a hand and fingering her skirt.

Eponine slapped his wandering hand away. "None of your business," she snarled.

"Have you fallen into fortune? Do your parents know about your sudden stroke of luck?" he asked, stepping closer to her.

"Leave me alone," Eponine replied, her fists balled at her sides.

"Why so cold all of a sudden? I seem to remember a time when you just _begged_ for me to touch you." Montparnasse said, smiling down at her and stepping even closer. Eponine could smell the brandy on his breath.

"I was a silly little girl then," Eponine replied, trying to back away but finding that somehow Montparnasse had managed to corner her in the alley. Her back was pressed against the wall.

"And what changed that?" Montparnasse asked, running his hand down her arm.

Eponine shook off his touch. "I 'ave standards now," she replied coldly.

Anger flashed through the thief's eyes, and he roughly grabbed her. "You know what I think? I think that being around rich folk has made you soft. Soft and stupid. No matter, though, you're still pretty enough." Montparnasse said, grinning down at her.

Eponine glared at him and quickly kneed him to the groin before pushing him away. "What was that about goin' soft?" she asked him.

"You little . . ." Montparnasse growled before lunging at her, grabbing her by the neck and pushing her against the wall.

"I think it's time I taught you a little lesson," Montparnasse said, beginning to grope at her dress.

Normally, any girl in her position would have cried out in fear. But Eponine narrowed her eyes, and in one swift move she kneed him in the groin. Again. Montparnasse cried out and Eponine punched him in the face before grabbing him by the shoulders and ramming his head against the wall.

"You really don't learn very well, do you? God, what did I ever see in you?" Eponine wondered, giving Montparnasse a disgusted backward glance before turning to leave.

But, it proves he was very persistent, as he grabbed her around the waist.

"I may not be a very good learner, but I believe that it's my determination that helps me succeed," he growled, holding a knife to Eponine's throat. The street girl's eyes opened wide as the moonlight glinted on the dull blade. That would hurt if he cut her throat. A lot.

"Now, you're going to do as I say, or I'll –"

"I believe that she told you to leave her alone," a voice said coldy.

Never before had Eponine been so grateful to hear that voice.

Montparnasse turned around to glare in annoyance at the darkly clad figure.

"Mind your own business. I've got some unfinished work with this one," he said, turning back to face Eponine.

Erik sighed. "Very well, I see how it is," he said before his fist swung out at Montparnasse, hitting him on the head.

The thief let out an outraged cry before lunging at the Phantom, his knife drawn. But Erik easily dodged the poor attack, his nimbleness aiding him greatly.

Now, had Eponine been any other girl, she probably would have just stood on the sidelines, her fists stuffed in her mouth in fear. But instead, Eponine picked up a metal bar that was on the ground – it must have fallen off a window – and as Montparnasse came flying her way due to a hard punch by Erik, she swung the bar at the thief's head, making him fall to the ground face-first.

"Soft and stupid my ass," she growled, kicking him. She liked to think that even in his incapacitated state he could still feel it.

"You could have killed him," Erik said reprovingly.

"You're one to talk. And besides, I know 'ow to 'it someone on the 'ead without killin' them. My father and 'is gang would be in a lot of trouble if every guard or man I 'it died," Eponine said, crossing her arms.

"I don't suppose I'll get a thank-you," Erik said dryly.

Eponine rolled her eyes. "I'm sure I could 'ave 'andled it eventually, but alright: thank you for savin' me from Mont-barn-ass, the bastard," she said, looking down and spitting on him before kicking him once more for good measure.

"A friend of yours?" Erik inquired.

Eponine shrugged." 'e was in my father's gang. I fancied 'im when I was younger. That changed a few months back."

"That Marius fellow, am I correct?" Erik asked.

Eponine looked at him out of the corner of her eye. "Did I tell you everythin' when you _drugged_ me?"

"You're not going to let that one go in a hurry, are you?" Erik asked.

"Not on your life. Now, you can answer this one question, Monsieur le Fantomme: how is it that you 'appened to be out and abroad at the exact same time and the exact same place that I was?" Eponine asked, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrow.

Erik glared at her. "If you must know, I have a letter I want you to give to Daroga," he said, holding out an envelope with his red-scull wax seal on it.

"What, no booby in front of 'is name this time?" Eponine asked, raising an eyebrow and taking the letter, stuffing it in the folds of her dress.

"Just give the letter to Daroga," Erik growled before turning and leaving with a twirl of his cloak.

"You know, that whole cape-thing was ridiculous the first time you did it!" Eponine called after him.

* * *

Eponine delivered the letter to Nadir, and it turned out to be a sort of "progress report" for her lessons. Eponine didn't read it – apparently Erik had written specific instructions that Nadir was not to show it to her – but Nadir seemed pleased enough when he folded it back up and put it in his jacket.

"Erik says you've been doing exceptionally well. However, he told me that you've been talking back too much,"

Eponine waited for Nadir to say something more, but when he remained silent, she raised an eyebrow.

"And?" she asked.

"That's it," Nadir replied.

Eponine snorted. "I'm afraid 'e's in for a disappointment if 'e expects me to play the docile lap-dog for 'im," she said before scrunching her face up in disgust. "Poor word-choice, ew."

Nadir chuckled. "To be quite honest, I don't expect you to change your ways. Christine was far too complacent. Erik needs someone to stand up to him. And to his face, not behind his back," Nadir said.

Eponine nodded. "Yeah, the last one is more cruel,"

Nadir nodded, then sighed. "Well, I've got dinner ready," he said before holding out his arm to her.

Eponine smiled and took it. She liked Nadir. He was more of a friend, more of a father to her than her biological one ever was. And she was grateful for that.

* * *

"Good morning, Eponine," Erik said, waiting at his usual spot on the lake.

"Mornin', Monsieur," Eponine greeted, stepping into the gondola.

"I see you haven't been arrested," Erik commented as he began to push the boat forward.

"I 'aven't stolen anythin' in a long time. I see you 'aven't killed yourself yet," Eponine replied.

"I have a feeling it wouldn't work," Erik said.

"Oh?" Eponine asked.

"It seems that the Powers That Be have a rather warped sense of humor," Erik said bitterly.

"'ow's that?" Eponine asked.

"They keep on sending this little mouse to gnaw away at my noose whenever I try to hang myself," Erik said dryly.

Eponine flashed him a grin in response.

When they finally reached the lair, Erik stepped out, offering his hand to Eponine – which she refused, partly out of need for independence, partly to annoy him – before taking off his cape using his customary twirl.

"Really, one would think you're tryin' to conjure up the winds with that thing," Eponine said as Erik made his way over to the organ.

"I think we have exhausted your solo for the moment," Erik said.

Eponine raised her eyebrow, "Oh?" she said, trying to contain her excitement. Despite the beauty of _God Help the Outcasts_, she was starting to get a little bored with singing the same thing for days on end.

"What do you think about a duet?" Erik asked.

"Remember 'ow the last one went?" Eponine reminded him, in truth feeling a little uneasy about singing with him.

"I can assure you that this one will be considerably tamer. I don't really want to sing anything from _Don Juan_ with you either, Eponine." Erik said coolly before putting new sheet music on the organ.

Eponine squinted at the title "Alone in the Universe? Sounds awful gloomy. And like you've been wallowin' again," Eponine said, giving Erik a look

The Phantom sighed. "Just wait for a cue, will you?"

Eponine shrugged, "Sure,"

Erik took a deep breath before he began to play the piano, lost in his usual trance. His fingers flew over the keys, and then he opened his mouth, and sang.

"_I'm alone in the universe. _

_So alone in the universe. _

_I've found magic but they don't see it," _Erik began.

"If thisturns out to be some sob-song that's an excuse for you to wallow, I'm goin' to punch you the face," Eponine grumbled. Erik ignored her.

"_They all call me a lunatic. _

_Ok, call me a lunatic. _

_If I stand on my own, so be it. _

_'Cause I have wings. _

_Yes, I can fly _

_Around the moon _

_And far beyond the sky _

_And one day soon _

_I know there you'll be _

_One small voice in the universe _

_One true friend in the universe _

_Who believes in me. . ." _Erik trailed off, signaling Eponine to start.

"_I'm alone in the universe. _

_So alone in the universe. _

_My own planets and stars _

_Are glowing." _Eponine sang.

"_Alone in the universe,"_ sang Erik.

"_No one notices anything. _

_Not one person is listening. _

_They don't have any way of knowing." _Eponine continued. She had felt alone on so many occasions, especially when Marius was so blind to her feelings for him.

"_Nobody knows that_

_I have wings,"_ Erik sang.

"I have wings." Eponine joined.

"_Yes, I can fly,"_ Erik continued.

"_I can fly,"_ Eponine added.

"_Around the moon," _Erik sang.

"_And far_

_Beyond the sky"_ they both sang, their voices mingling in the duet.

"_Well someday soon _

_You will hear my plea"_ they sang, Eponine letting her voice fade.

"_One small voice in the universe"_ Erik sang.

"_One true friend in the universe"_ Eponine added.

"_Please believe in me . . ."_ they sang.

"There's some dialogue between this that I haven't decided on yet, but the two singers hear each other," Erik explained.

"And they find they have more in common than they think," Eponine whispered.

Erik nodded, "Exactly, and then the song picks up hear . . ."

"_Yes, I have wings,"_ Erik sang

"_I have wings,"_ Eponine overlapped.

"_And I can fly,"_ Erik continued.

"_I can fly . . ."_ sang Eponine.

"_Around the moon," _

"_And far beyond the sky,"_ they sang together.

"_You called my name,"_ Erik sang softly.

"_And you set me free-"_ Eponine sang with him.

"_One small voice in the universe,"_ Erik sang.

"_One true friend in the universe,"_ Eponine added.

"_Who believes in me,"_ they sang together, the song ending.

"Erik?" Eponine asked after a moment of tense silence.

"Yes?" the Phantom asked.

"When you drugged me, I told you about Marius, didn't I?" Eponine asked.

Erik nodded.

"And . . . what did you see, at the barricades when you saved me?" Eponine asked.

"Rain will make the flowers grow," Erik said softly.

Eponine looked down. "Right. Well, I guess what I'm tryin' to say is . . . you're not as alone as you think you are. I know that's kind of cliché considerin' what we just sang and all . . . but I know 'ow it feels, y'know? So, if you ever need someone to talk to, or anythin' . . ."

"I think we should work on the duet some more," Erik said.

Eponine nodded, grateful that Erik stopped her babbling. "Right,"

"Oh, and Eponine?" Erik asked, turning around.

"Yes?" the street girl asked.

"I know that most of your friends likely died at the barricades," he said.

Eponine looked down, tears stinging her eyes.

"But you're not as alone as you think you are, either," he said before turning around and playing the music again.

Eponine stared at him incredulously, and slowly a smile broke out on her face. Maybe there was a person underneath that mask, not just a hurt animal.

* * *

Sorry this took a little longer to upload. Rehearsals have been CRAZY for Oklahoma. But, if you were wondering what that song was that Eponine and Erik were singing, it's _Alone in the Universe_ from _Seussical_. It's a great musical, I love it! XD And the song from the previous chapter was _God Help the Outcasts_ from _the Hunchback of Notre Dame_. But I think you all knew that. XD

Review!

~FantasticMisticalWonder (FMW/Wonder)


	13. When Will My Life Begin?

Disclaimer: I own NADA. You hear? Leroux and Webber own Phantom, and Hugo and . . . a bunch of people own Les Miz, I don't feel like writing out their names right now. But I am in NO WAY making ANY profit off of this. No need to send Javert after me. Oh, wait, he's dead, never mind!

* * *

"You seem to be in a considerably better mood today," Nadir noticed as Eponine walked in the door.

"I think I've finally made a break-through with Erik," Eponine said.

A smile broke out on Nadir's face. "That's wonderful!"

"I told 'im 'e's not as alone as 'e thinks 'e is," Eponine said.

Nadir nodded, still smiling. "Well done, Eponine. Loneliness has been one of the many and terrible plagues of Erik's life, and you're starting to eliminate it by just being there and talking – or singing – with him," Nadir said.

"Are you sayin' that you only agreed to this because you're tryin' to 'eal Erik?" Eponine asked.

Nadir smiled sadly. "Eponine, Erik is one of the most broken people I know. Life has beaten him down, and he has been told so often that he will forever be alone, unloved, and scorned that he himself has come to believe it,"

"I've been tryin' to get 'im out of that pit, you know. I suppose I could be gentler about it, but I just threaten to 'it 'im if 'e wallows in self-pity too much. Sometimes I think bein' blunt works better with 'im, even though 'e talks so flowery and complicated all the time," Eponine said.

Nadir nodded. "Good, Erik needs a firm hand to bring him out of his despair. Firm, but not cruel,"

Eponine nodded, and then sighed. "Right, well, I don't think I should talk much more; Erik says that it'll make singin' easier if I limit 'ow much I open my mouth for the rest of the day that I'm not singin',"

Nadir raised an eyebrow. "How will you ever manage?"

"With great willpower," Eponine said sourly before walking past Nadir and into the kitchen.

Nadir watched Eponine go with a smile. It was good to hear the lessons were going well. Erik was slowly healing. And from the looks of it, so was Eponine.

* * *

When Eponine arrived at the lair, she found the gondola waiting by the lake, but no Erik in it. Frowning in confusion, and the beginnings of worry beginning to grow, Eponine stepped into the gondola, and awkwardly took the pole and began to push herself forward, clumsily maneuvering through the lake and towards Erik's home. When she finally arrived, she saw that the gate was up, and Erik was slumped over the organ, his form still. Eponine let out a yelp and threw the pole aside, jumping off of the boat and running towards him. However, when she reached him, she heard the slight noise of snoring, and she saw his steady breathing. Eponine let out a sigh of relief before rolling her eyes.

"Erik," she said softly.

He didn't stir.

"Erik! Wake up!"

He snored on.

Eponine rolled her eyes and shook his shoulders, though even that proved to not work. Huffing, Eponine balled up her fist and punched him in the face before taking his shoulders and dumping his head in the lake, pulling him out immediately.

Erik spluttered. "I was awake after you punched me, you know," he said indignantly.

"I wanted to make sure you were awake: you were sleepin' pretty 'eavily," Eponine said.

"I have half a mind to push you in the lake, you know," Erik said sourly as he straightened his shirt.

Eponine smiled cheekily. "Just you try,"

Erik sniffed and straightened his wig. "If you are quite done making a mockery of me, I have a new song for you to sing,"

"Is that why you were sleepin' like a drunk?" Eponine asked.

Erik ignored her and handed the sheet music to her. Eponine blinked and took the music from his hands, her eyes scanning over the title and lyrics, trying to imagine the tune in her head.

"From what I can make out without 'earin' it, it's beautiful. But some of the lyrics don't make much sense . . ."

"Yes, in the context of the opera, the girl who's singing it has been locked away from the world for all of her life by an overprotective mother," Erik explained.

Eponine nodded. "Oh, that makes sense, then."

Erik nodded "Good, then let's start," he said before his fingers began to fly over the keys, the tune happy and bright – a polar opposite of his usual compositions.

"_7 AM, the usual morning lineup:"_ Eponine began.

"_Start on the chores and sweep 'til the floor's all clean_

_Polish and wax, do laundry, and mop and shine up_

_Sweep again, and by then it's like 7:15._

_And so I'll read a book_

_Or maybe two or three_

_I'll add a few new paintings to my gallery_

_I'll play guitar and knit_

_And cook and basically_

_Just wonder when will my life begin?" _Eponine sang before looking up.

"Merde, she has a lot of free time on 'er 'ands, doesn't she?" Eponine asked.

"Just sing," Erik said irritably.

"_Then after lunch it's puzzles and darts and baking_

_Paper Mache, a bit of ballet and chess_

_Pottery and ventriloquy, candle making,"_ Eponine raised an eyebrow. Ventriloquy? Really? How bored was this girl?

"_Then I'll stretch, maybe sketch, take a climb,_

_Sew a dress!_

_And I'll reread the books_

_If I have time to spare_

_I'll paint the walls some more,_

_I'm sure there's room somewhere._

_And then I'll brush and brush,_

_And brush and brush my hair_

_Stuck in the same place I've always been._

_And I'll keep wonderin' and wonderin'_

_And wonderin' and wonderin'_

_When will my life begin?" _Eponine finished, looking at Erik.

"Just 'ow much 'air does she 'ave, anyways?" she asked.

Erik sighed. "I thought I told you to stop being so sarcastic,"

"You expected me to actually obey that?" Eponine asked surprise.

Erik sighed. "I should have known this day would be difficult. After all, I was awakened by an imp,"

"Oh, first I'm a mouse, now I'm an imp? What's next, a poltergeist? Oh, no, wait, that's you," Eponine said sarcastically.

Erik glared at her. "I sometimes wonder why I ever asked you to become my student," he said, rubbing his forehead.

"You needed a purpose so you wouldn't kill yourself, remember?" Eponine asked.

"I was quite content with suicide, but you just couldn't leave me alone, could you?" Erik said irritably.

"It's my fault that I saved you from damning yourself? Well, I think I can take that blame if I must," Eponine snapped.

Erik closed his eyes and breathed deeply. "I was writing another song last night, allow me to play it for you," Erik said coolly, taking out another sheet of music and placing it on the piano before starting to play it.

"_I know the sound of each rock and stone_

_And I embrace what others fear_

_You are not to roam in this forgotten place_

_Just the likes of me are welcome here,"_ Erik sang, turning over his shoulder to glare at Eponine. She raised an eyebrow and gave him a look that said _'Who made me your student, again?'_

"_Everything breathes _

_And I know each breath_

_For me it means life_

_For others it's death_

_It's perfectly balanced_

_Perfectly planned_

_More than enough for this man," _Erik sang.

"Just keep tellin' yourself that," Eponine said dryly.

"_Like every tree stands on its own,"_ Erik glared at her.

"_Reaching for the sky I stand alone_

_I share my world with no one else_

_All by myself_

_I stand alone,"_

Eponine had to bite her lip to prevent herself from mentioning Christine. There was a sort of wordless agreement between them to not mention anything about the young soprano. It was still too painful a subject for Erik, Eponine could tell.

"I've seen your world with these very eyes

Don't come any closer, don't even try

I've felt all the pain and heard all the lies," Erik sang, closing his eyes as if in pain himself. Eponine suddenly wondered what had happened to him, what torture he had gone through that had led him to isolate himself from the world. It probably had something to do with his disfigurement – Eponine inwardly shuddered at the memory of it – but still, what horrors had he been forced to endure? That almost familiar pity arose in Eponine, but she didn't let it show. He wasn't the type to take kindly to pity, Eponine could tell.

"_But in my world there's no compromise_

_Like every tree stands on its own_

_Reaching for the sky I stand alone_

_I share my world with no one else_

_All by myself I stand alone_

_All by myself I stand alone_

_All by myself I stand alone,"_ Erik sang, finishing the song, his hands still resting on the keys.

Eponine bit the inside of her cheek and shifted her stance. "Y'know, if you wanted me out, you could 'ave always just told me," she pointed out.

Erik turned to give her a withering look. "I have a feeling you wouldn't listen," he said dryly.

Eponine smiled. "See? Already we're getting' to start to know each other. Now, if you're done with your sob-story, I assume that you 'ave a few things to correct me on with that song about the girl with too-much free-time," Eponine guessed.

"Now that you mention it . . ." Erik said, pulling back out the song Eponine had sung before.

Eponine smirked. "Knew it,"

* * *

It was a Saturday, and Erik had given Eponine the day off. At first, Eponine had been hesitant about letting Erik be alone for an entire day – who knew what kind of deep pit he could dig himself into – but Erik had insisted that Eponine take a break from her continuous singing and giver her voice a rest.

Eponine was walking through the market, as she had insisted that she get the groceries Nadir needed – after all, she felt she should do _something_ to help him after all he had done for her – and she was squinting down at the list of things Nadir needed when she heard a surprised yelp. Eponine looked up in time to be attacked by a whirlwind of blonde hair. Eponine stood there in shock as she was embraced by the blond girl.

"Eponine! Is that you?" the girl asked in surprise after pulling away.

Eponine blinked. "Meg?"

Meg let out a cry. "Oh, Eponine, it is you!" she cried, hugging the former gamine again.

"Meg, what are you doing here?" Eponine asked.

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here? I've been so worried about you! Christine told me all about how you took her place for _Don Juan_ – I can't believe I didn't notice it! You're voices are so different – and then that Baron Pontmercy friend of yours came to the latest party for the new Opera House – he's one of our patrons now – and told us you died at the barricade! It's a miracle you're alive –"

"Wait, there's a new Opera House?" Eponine asked in surprise.

Meg nodded.

"And Monsieur Marius is alive?"

Another nod.

"And he's the newest patron?"

Meg nodded again. "Yes! Oh, 'Ponine, everyone's going to be so happy that you didn't die!"

"I'm rather happy of that myself. When did the new Opera House open?" Eponine asked.

"Only this week! There was this old run-down theatre on the other side of Paris that the Vicomte de Chagny helped fund the repairs for!" Meg said happily.

Eponine blinked in surprise. Her brain was about to burst from all of this new information. "That's . . . wonderful, Meg. I'll see you around, I'm sure, but I have a few errands to run . . ."

"Oh, Eponine, you should rejoin the chorus! We've all missed you so much!" Meg cried.

Eponine smiled. "Per'aps, but I 'ave a lot of errands to take care of, I'll catch you later, all right?" Eponine asked.

Meg nodded. "Yes. Oh, Eponine, it's been so good to see you! Try not to die, please," Meg begged before running off.

Eponine blinked, before looking back down at the list. She had half a mind to forget the groceries in favor of running back to tell Nadir what had happened. But she needed time to think things over herself. So after taking a deep breath, Eponine went to go finish the shopping.

* * *

"Ah, Eponine, you're back. Thank you for going to the market for me," Nadir said gratefully, taking the packages and such from her to set them on the kitchen table.

Eponine didn't respond, still in shock from what had happened.

"Eponine, are you alright?" Nadir asked.

"I just 'ad a little shock at the market place, that's all," Eponine said, sitting down.

"What happened?" Nadir asked.

"I saw Meg Giry," she said.

"The ballerina?" Nadir asked.

Eponine nodded. "Yes, and a new Opera 'ouse 'as opened over on the other side of Paris, with Monsieur Marius as one of its patrons," Eponine said.

Nadir's eyes opened wide. "Sweet Allah . . ."

"Do you think I should tell Erik about this?" Eponine asked.

Nadir frowned. "Is Miss Daae still singing there?"

Eponine shrugged. "I don't know, but Meg said that the Vicomte de Chagny 'elped fund the production of it,"

Nadir frowned. "I think we should wait. Running into Christine again would not be a good thing: he might either fall back into his despair, or even revert back to his murderous ways,"

Eponine shuddered. Yes, having Erik revert back to his old self would not be a good thing at all. Absentmindedly, she fingered her wrists and back of her hand.

"Do you want me to find out if Christine's still singin' there?" Eponine asked.

Nadir nodded. "That would be a good idea: we don't want Erik finding out about this by himself and keeping it a secret,"

Eponine nodded and sighed. "Alright, so should I snoop or go out in broad daylight?"

* * *

Whew, sorry it's been taking me a while to update, I've been really caught-up in the school musical right now. Thursday was opening night, and I haven't been getting to bed until after midnight, so my time's been sucked up. Oh, and those two songs were "When Will My Life Begin?" from Tangled and "I Stand Alone" from Quest for Camelot. The latter was actually inspired by a video on YouTube. Just type int "Erik I Stand Alone" and you'll find it. I hope you guys liked this chapter! Review!

~FantasticMisticalWonder (FMW/Wonder)

~FantasticMisticalWonder (FMW/Wonder)


	14. Can't Say No

Disclaimer: Do I even need to do this anymore? You all know that if I owned Les Miserables and Phantom of the Opera, I'd have made a sequel to both using this story-line, and I wouldn't be writing fanfiction. But alas, alack, and woe is me, for I do not own Les Miz or Phantom, so I must be content with fanfiction.

* * *

"Are you sure you're not going to join yet?" Meg asked as she led Eponine to the new Opera House.

Eponine smiled and shook her head. "No, I am still recoverin' from a bullet-wound, you know. I think it'd be better if I just considered it while I'm ealin',"

Meg nodded. "That makes sense. Ah, hear we are!" Meg declared, standing in front of a building.

Eponine looked up and squinted. It certainly wasn't as grand as the Opera Populaire had been, but that was to be expected. But it was still quite impressive, just with its immense size, and the overall new look to it.

"Come on! I'll show you around! Oh, everyone will be so glad to see you!" Meg cried, pulling Eponine inside.

The inside was less ornate than the original Opera House, but it was still apparent that a lot of money and work had been put into it. There were tapestries and marble statues and curtains of silk.

"The Vicomte certainly wasn't stingy with 'is money," Eponine commented.

Meg shook her head. "No, he was very generous. Come on and look at the stage!"

"Meg, you're needed at practice," a voice said firmly.

Meg spun around. "But mother! I promised Eponine I'd show her around!"

Madame Giry's eyes opened wide. "Eponine?" she repeated, her eyes falling on the other girl.

"Eponine, is that you?" she asked.

Eponine nodded her head. "'ello, Madame Giry. It is good to see you again,"

Madame Giry shook herself out of her stupor. "Well, having a friend come back from the dead is no excuse. Meg, go back to practice, I will show Eponine around," she said firmly.

Meg huffed, but consented, running off after giving Eponine a farewell hug.

"It is good to see you alive, Eponine," Madame Giry said.

"I'm glad, too," Eponine replied.

"Come, I'll give you the tour," Madame Giry said, motioning for Eponine to follow her.

"Will you be rejoining the chorus?" Madame Giry asked.

"I think I'll wait a little: I was shot at the barricades, and I'm still recoverin'," Eponine said.

"How did you manage to escape? The Baron Pontmercy said you died in his arms," Madame Giry mentioned.

Eponine just smiled. "I don't know, Madame, I woke up in a doctor's 'ome," it was partially true: Nadir technically did have enough training to be a doctor.

"How did you come to be there?" Madame Giry asked.

Eponine shrugged. "Whoever saved me is a mystery, Madame Giry," also true: much of Erik's motives and thoughts did remain a mystery to Eponine, though she was slowly beginning to understand him.

"Well, I am glad to see you alive," Madame Giry said.

Eponine nodded. "'ow's Christine? She must 'ave been awfully frightened after _Don Juan_: I'm afraid I didn't see 'er at all after . . . the incident," Eponine said carefully.

"She is fine: she's married to the Vicomte now, given up singing, I'm afraid. I am afraid that she will forever fear singing, out of a greater fear that _he_ will hear her and come after her,"

"That's awful," Eponine said, though she couldn't help but feel a little twinge of relief. Christine wasn't singing at the Opera House.

"And her fears are shared with the Vicomte as well: he will not even let her step foot in this Opera House. He fears that the Opera Ghost has followed it. But there have been no clues to his living here; I believe he has disappeared for good this time," Madame Giry said.

Eponine nodded. "Good, less for the girls to gossip about, right?"

"I suppose," Madame Giry said before beginning to explain the layout of the new Opera House. But Eponine wasn't listening: she'd learned what she needed to, and she now knew it to be safe for Erik to know about the new Opera House.

For his obsession would not be in it.

* * *

"Monsieur Erik!" Eponine called, throwing the pole down and jumping off of the boat.

"You're late," Erik said, glaring at Eponine from the piano.

"I 'ad to do some research for Nadir, and I think you'll find it pretty interestin' –"

"We have wasted enough time as it is. And since you showed _so_ much enthusiasm on your latest song – that was sarcasm, as I suspect you know due to how fluent you are in it – I decided to write you a new one," Erik said acidly.

"Monsieur Erik, if you'll only listen for a second –"

"You certainly are one to talk. However, I want to hear music from your mouth, not blabber. Sing."

"But Monsieur –"

"_Sing_." Erik commanded.

Eponine huffed, but consented.

"_I'm just a girl who can't say no,_

_I'm in a terrible fix _

_I always say "come on, let's go"_

_Just when I auta say next!_

_When a person tries to kiss a girl,_

_I know she auta give his face a smack._

_But as soon as someone kisses me,_

_I somehow, sorta, wanta kiss him back!_

_I'm just a fool when lights are low_

_I can't be prissy and quaint_

_I ain't the type that can faint_

_How can I be what I ain't?_

_I can't say no!"_

"What the 'ell is this?" Eponine demanded.

"Just sing," Erik growled.

"_What you goin' to do when a fella gets flirty,_

_And starts to talk pretty?_

_What you goin' to do?_

_S'posin that he says 'that your lips're like cherries _

_Or roses _

_Or berries?_

_What you goin' to do?_

_S'posin' 'that he says 'that you're sweeter 'n cream,_

_And he's gotta have cream or die?_

_What you goin' to do when he talks that way,_

_Spit in his eye?_

_I'm just a girl who can't say no,_

_Kissin's my favorite food_

_With or without the mistletoe _

_I'm in a holiday mood." _

"This is insultin'!" Eponine cried.

"Sing," Erik growled.

"_Other girls are coy and hard to catch_

_But other girls aint havin' any fun_

_Every time i lose a wrestling match_

_I have a funny feeling that i won_

_Although i can feel the undertone _

_I never make a complaint_

_Till it's too late for restraint_

_Then when I wanna I can't _

_I can't say no,"_

"What the 'ell were you insinuatin' with that song?" Eponine demanded, putting her hands on her hips.

"Is there no pleasing you with my music?" Erik asked.

"Oh, you're music's lovely: I just 'ave problems with a few of your songs. Namely, this one," Eponine said sourly.

"I rather liked it,"

"You were makin' me seem like a floozy!" Eponine cried.

"No, the character is a 'floozy.' You have to learn to forget who you are and become someone else when you sing a song. I know very well that you aren't as eager as the girl in the song: I _did_ see your exchange with Montparnasse, remember?" Erik asked.

Eponine crossed her arms. "Yeah, it's not the sort of thing you'd forget,"

"Is he still a 'rotten bastard' in your mind?"

"The worst. There's a new Opera 'ouse,"

Erik stopped. "What?"

"The company's moved to a new opera 'ouse that just opened a few days ago. I ran into Meg at the market and she told me," Eponine said.

Erik blinked. "I would ask why you hadn't told me this sooner, but you would just remind me that I prevented you from saying anything."

Eponine flashed him a grin. "Yep,"

"I am curious as to why you would tell me this: after all, could I not possibly be thrown back into my depression due to resurfacing memories and familiar faces?" Erik asked.

"That was the research I was talkin' about: I wanted to make sure nothin' like that would be possible,"

"So, Christine . . ."

"Is afraid of even settin' foot in there, and the Vicomte won't let 'er anyways," Eponine assured him.

Erik nodded and took a deep breath. "Good, good," he said, though his eyes betrayed his real feelings. Eponine felt that pity again: she knew how he felt. She herself would have a hard time emotionally at the Opera House, what with Marius showing an obvious interest in it. What would she tell him when he saw her? "Oh, I didn't really die that night at the barricades, I was just MOSTLY dead. No, I really was stolen from under your noses by the man that used to haunt the Opera House and taken to his Persian friend and nursed back to health. Oh, and I'm now being given singing lessons by him – not the Persian, the Ghost – and I'm simultaneously trying to keep him from killing himself. How's your life been?"

"Eponine, are you alright?" Erik asked.

Eponine mentally shook herself out of her thoughts and nodded. "Yeah, just thinkin', that's all,"

Erik looked at her out of the corner of his eye and then sighed.

"Very well. Since you have seemed equally enthusiastic about the last song, I suppose I should try and find something else for you to sing," he said sourly.

"Nothin' too ridiculous this time, or I'll spit in _your_ eye."

"Duly noted,"

* * *

Eponine waited a week before officially rejoining the chorus at the Opera Populaire. During that week, Eponine continued her lessons with Erik, finally having decided on a song that Eponine had deemed sane enough. They occasionally worked on _Alone in the Universe_, but they focused mainly on the new song. Finally, the day that Eponine would go came, and she had visited Erik an hour earlier. They went over the song a few times – just in case she had to audition to get back in – and then she had left for the Opera House. When she walked into the building, she saw Madame Giry talking sternly to a few dancer girls, and Eponine waited politely in the corner until Madame Giry dismissed the girls.

"Madame Giry?" Eponine called.

The ballet mistress turned around, and when she saw Eponine, she nodded at her.

"Ah, Eponine. I assume you're here to rejoin the chorus?"

Eponine nodded.

"Well, I would let you join immediately, but I'm afraid the managers are requiring that all those returning audition again. They want to make sure that everyone is still capable after the accident," Madame Giry explained.

Eponine nodded. "Alright. Will this be like last time, or will it be more formal, Madame?"

"The managers themselves want to see the tryouts, so I'm afraid you will have to wait a few minutes while I get them," Madame Giry said before walking away.

Eponine quickly went over the lyrics and such in her head while she waited for Madame Giry, and she fiddled with the ends of her hair. It had never looked so healthy: continuous washing and brushing had made it less straggly, and it had started to regain some of the luster it had obtained when she was younger, before the fall to poverty.

"Here she is, Monsieurs," Madame Giry said, walking up to Eponine with Andre and Firmin trailing behind her.

"Ah, yes, the street girl," Andre said.

"Well, I think it would be more proper for us to conduct this audition in the theatre, don't you?" Firmin asked.

"Yes, get the proper atmosphere and such. Come on, don't be shy," Andre said, gesturing for Eponine to follow him and his associate.

Eponine looked at Madame Giry out of the corner of her eye, but followed the two managers into the auditorium.

And in the shadows, a black-clad figure followed them as well.

* * *

Erik crept up to one of the boxes where he could watch Eponine's audition properly. He wanted to make sure that she did well, even though she wouldn't need his help.

Eponine had been improving immensely in her singing, despite her constant fighting him. She learned quickly – a trait, Erik assumed, that she had picked up on the streets – and her voice had become increasingly strong with each lesson.

Sometimes, Erik wondered how he had mistaken her for Christine, what with how weak her voice had been before taking lessons, but he put it aside as him only wanting to hear Christine, his mind substituting reality for want, only facing the truth when it was forced upon him. But even with training, Eponine's voice could not be mistaken for Christine's. The quality was too different, as was the tone.

"Alright, could we have a little quiet in here?" Firmin called.

"Yes, we have an audition going on!" Andre added.

The dancers all backed up, on blonde one – Meg Giry, Erik realized – smiling encouragingly at Eponine. Erik noticed in distaste that Carlotta was also on stage, smirking at Eponine. She was probably expecting the girl to have a whiny and weak voice. Well, she was about to be in for a shock . . .

"Do you have a song prepared, Mademoiselle?" the conductor asked.

"Yes, Monsieur," Eponine replied.

"Do you have sheet music for it?" he asked.

"Yes, Monsieur," Eponine answered, holding out the music for the conductor to take. He gently laid it out on the piano before beginning to play it. Eponine waited patiently for her cue before opening her mouth.

"_Look at me_

_I will never pass_

_For a perfect bride_

_Or a perfect daughter_

_Can it be_

_I'm not meant to play this part?"_ Eponine sang, her voice shaking a little. Erik inwardly cursed. Of all the times for her to suddenly become meek . . .

"_Now I see_

_That if I were truly to be myself_

_I would break my family's heart,"_ she sang, her voice slowly becoming stronger. She must have felt Carlotta's smug grin.

"_Who is that girl I see_

_Staring straight_

_Back at me?"_ she sang, her voice suddenly bursting from her throat in confidence, everyone staring at her in amazement – or in Carlotta's case, raw jealousy and dismay.

"_Why is my reflection someone _

_I don't know?_

_Somehow_

_I cannot hide_

_Who I am_

_Though I've tried_

_When will my reflection show_

_Who I am _

_Inside?_

_When will my reflection show_

_Who I am _

_Inside?"_ Eponine sang, looking down as she finished, her face flushed with excitement. Erik smiled. There, she had done wonderfully.

Andre and Firmin were staring at Eponine, their eyes wide in surprise, as were the rest of the chorus. Meg was the first one to be broken out of her stupor and start clapping. Eventually, everyone else followed in her lead, clapping for Eponine. Carlotta and Madame Giry were the only ones who did not – outrage on the diva's face, and hints of suspicion on Madame Giry's.

"Well done my dear!" Andre declared.

"I should say so. And you're only auditioning for the chorus?" Firmin asked.

Erik smirked.

"I should think you belonged in a slightly . . . more vocal role, wouldn't you say so, Firmin?" Andre asked.

"Most certainly," Firmin agreed.

"Oh, no no no no no," Carlotta said, stepping up.

Erik frowned.

"She is a strrrrreet girrrl, Monsieurs. Do you have any idea what kind of publicity that would brrrrring us?" Carlotta demanded.

"No one will care where her origins are, La Carlotta," Andre soothed.

"I will! I rrrrrrrefuse to sharrrre this stage with gutterrrrrr filth like herrr!" Carlotta declared.

_Good_, Erik thought smugly.

Eponine had a look of indignity on her face, and for a moment, Erik thought she might tackle Carlotta to the ground. But she managed to keep herself under control, though Erik could see the fire in her eyes.

"Mademoiselle, please, we need to have someone sing the alto," Firmin said.

Erik frowned. Alto? Eponine could certainly do better than that, though the gamine seemed relieved with her position.

Carlotta sniffed. "Fine. But if she blocks me, I am going back to Italy!" Carlotta declared, strutting off the stage.

Andre and Firmin turned back to Eponine. "We're terribly sorry about that, she'll warm up to you soon enough, I can assure you," Andre said.

"Yes, and meanwhile, maestro, why don't you give Eponine a debriefing of the musical," Firmin suggested, pushing Eponine towards the conductor.

Erik sniffed. Well, he supposed that singing the alto would do for now. But he would have a hard time going to Eponine's performances if Carlotta would be singing.

Erik turned and slunk back through the shadows, ready to return home.

Down by the piano, Eponine looked up, and she squinted at the black shape that creeped out of the theatre.

Oh _merde_, not this again.

* * *

XD Seems like Erik has a hard time letting old habits die. That song that Eponine sang at the beginning was "Can't Say No" from Oklahoma, and the second song was "Reflection" from Mulan.

Review!

~FantasticMisticalWonder (FMW/Wonder)


	15. Sun and Moon

Disclaimer: Guess what? I got this HUGE grant for suppressed writers, and I BOUGHT THE RIGHTS TO LES MIZ AND PHANTOM! :O :O :O :O :O :O jk. I own nothing.

* * *

The rest of the day was . . . interesting, to say the least. Eponine spent most of the time trying to cram as much of the music into her memory while simultaneously ignoring all of Carlotta's attempts to make her time even more miserable. Really, that woman had some issues.

When Eponine arrived back home, she plopped down on the couch and rubbed her temples.

"Merde," she groaned.

"Rough day?" Nadir asked, putting a cup of tea in front of Eponine.

"Carlotta wants me dead," Eponine said, running a hand through her hair.

"I suppose that means you're a threat, then," Nadir reasoned.

"Yippee for me," Eponine said sarcastically.

"How was Erik?" Nadir asked, taking a sip of his tea.

"Alright. We went over the song a few times before I went to the audition. 'e followed me, I saw 'im lurkin' at the Opera 'ouse," Eponine said.

"He wanted to see your audition. After all, it is technically your first public result of your lessons. He wanted to be able to give you feedback on your performance," Nadir said.

"Or 'e wanted to see if Christine was really there," Eponine grumbled.

"Pardon?" Nadir asked.

"I've 'ad a long day, I think I need to head in early," Eponine said, standing up and walking to her room.

"You haven't even had dinner yet!" Nadir cried.

"I'm used to goin' days without food, one night won't bother me," Eponine said before closing the door. Groaning, Eponine leaned on the wood. It would take a while to get used to the stamina-sapping conditions of working at the Opera again. She wouldn't have to dance as much, but singing was almost just as exhausting.

Eponine sighed and walked over to her bed, undoing the laces on her corset. She slipped her nightgown on, and was about to retire when she noticed something laying on her pillow. Frowning, Eponine picked it up and examined it. It was a note, a red seal in the form of a scull on it. Eponine rolled her eyes and opened the letter, pulling out the paper inside of it.

_Eponine,_

_You did a wonderful job at the audition. There is no doubt in my mind that you were aware of my presence there before reading this note, and I am certain that you will have many comments of the sarcastic nature to be made of that. But putting that aside, I would like to say that you stunned everyone in that theatre. You may not have seen Carlotta's face whilst singing, but I am sure you felt the brunt of her jealousy afterwards. If I had my way (and I shall refrain from forcing it) you would be the soprano, not Carlotta. It is both a wonder and an outrage that she is once again the star. No matter, I assure you that the managers will come to their senses. _

_Our lessons are not to be cancelled due to your joining the cast of the Opera Populaire; you shall attend lessons from seven to nine in the mornings, and from four to six after your rehearsals. _

_Your humble teacher, _

_Erik_

Eponine rolled her eyes and set the note on her desk. She supposed some habits just never died.

As she fell asleep, Eponine's tired mind marveled at the fact that Erik spent over half the letter insulting Carlotta.

* * *

"Good morning," Erik greeted Eponine cordially as she stepped into the boat.

"I hate mornings," Eponine grumbled.

"A little out of sorts today, aren't we?" Erik commented.

"Just shut up," Eponine said, massaging her temples.

"You're not much of an early riser, I take it?" Erik asked.

"Always was more nocturnal than anythin' else," Eponine said.

"Really?" Erik asked, his voice betraying his mild interest.

Eponine shrugged. "Sure, it was always quieter, and cooler in the summer. No one to call you filthy rat, no strangers about. Reality seemed less 'arsh," Eponine said.

"The moon doesn't scorch like her sister," Erik said.

Eponine nodded. "Not as constant, but certainly kinder. Doesn't 'og the sky as much, either,"

"But the sun is pleasant as well: she brings warmth, light, life," Erik said.

Eponine nodded. "Yeah, the sun's nice, too. Brings a little warmth in the winter, makes the world seem 'appier than it really is,"

Erik nodded, pulling the gondola up to the shore of his home. He stepped off, offering his hand to Eponine – which she refused, as always, in her stubborn attempt at showing her independence. Eponine walked over to wait by the organ and watched as Erik performed his usual cape-ritual.

"Got some bugs in that thing you're tryin' to get rid of?" Eponine asked dryly.

Erik ignored her comment – like he usually did – and sat down at the organ, pulling out an unfamiliar piece of sheet music.

Eponine squinted at the title before smiling wryly at Erik. "Did you know what our conversation was goin' to be about while writin' this?"

"I can assure you, that was pure coincidence," Erik said stiffly, though a smile twitched at the corner of his lips.

"So, the fact that it was you who brought up the sun and moon topic 'as nothin' to do with this?" Eponine asked.

"Did I start that?" Erik asked.

"'The moon doesn't scorch like 'er sister,' remember?" Eponine quoted.

Erik sniffed. "I have no recollection of saying that, now sing," he commanded, starting to play the song on the organ.

"_You are sunlight and I moon _

_Joined by the gods of fortune _

_Midnight and high noon _

_Sharing the sky _

_We have been blessed, you and I," _Eponine sang, that wry smile still on her face from the pure situational irony.

"_You are here like a mystery _

_I'm from a world that's so different _

_From all that you are _

_How in the light of one night _

_Did we come so far?"_ Erik sang, looking over at her and smiling. Eponine grinned back at him.

"_Outside day starts to dawn,"_ Eponine sang.

"_Your moon still floats on high,"_ Erik replied. Eponine gave him a look that said _'What's that supposed to mean?'_

"Sing," Erik said, the exasperated tone of his voice ruined by the smile on his face.

"_The birds awake,"_ Eponine complied.

"_The stars shine too,"_ Erik retaliated.

"_My hands still shake,"_ Eponine sang.

"_I reach for you,"_ Erik looked over at her.

"_And we meet in the sky!"_ They sang together.

"_You are sunlight and I moon _

_Joined here _

_Bright'ning the sky _

_With the flame _

_Of love," _Eponine sang, frowning at the last part and giving Erik a look, to which he leaned back his head and sighed.

"Characters, Eponine, characters," he groaned.

Eponine raised an eyebrow.

"_Made of _

_Sunlight _

_Moonlight,"_ they sang together.

* * *

Erik looked over at Eponine as they finished the song, the remains of her laughter still on her face, her green eyes still twinkling.

"Beautifully done," Eponine commented, fingering the sheet music to indicate what she was talking about.

"Beautifully sung," Erik repeated.

Eponine smiled before putting her hands on her hips and shifting her weight. Erik groaned.

"I know that look. What sarcastic comment is about to come from your mouth?" he asked.

"You _do_ know that bein' stalked isn't that attractive to a girl?" Eponine asked.

"I knew you'd bring that up," Erik muttered under his breath.

"Really, I'm startin' to get the impression that you actually _like_ me what with 'ow many times you've followed me," Eponine said wryly.

"How many times have I followed you, exactly?" Erik asked.

"Please, I could _feel_ your eyes on me all those times you followed me to the ABC Café, and I can't think of any other way you'd 'ave known that I was dyin' at the barricades," Eponine said, shifting her weight again.

"Speaking of knowing things that you thought I didn't know . . . next time you want to insult me, jabbing at my parents isn't the best way to go, considering they abandoned me," Erik said.

Eponine furrowed her brow in confusion. "Wha –"

"'You're mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries,' remember?" Erik asked.

Eponine's eyes opened wide and her jaw fell slack. "'ow . . . you were off stalkin' Christine at the cemetery – " Eponine's eyes opened even wider and she slapped her hands over her mouth in alarm.

Erik smiled at her cautiousness. "Don't worry; I won't fall into despair at the mention of her name. I think I've passed that stage by now,"

Eponine lowered her hands and gave him an apologetic look.

"And as for how I knew: some sounds can echo for a _very_ long time down here," Erik said.

"So if I were to shout 'you're a stalkin' creeper' down 'ere, you would 'ave to listen to it for weeks?" Eponine asked, mischief twinkling in her eyes.

Erik just chuckled, "I think it would be best if we went back to your lessons: our time together has been cut considerably shorter due to your other commitments," Erik said.

"I've noticed that you always direct me back to the lesson when you don't 'ave a good comeback," Eponine commented.

"Just go over the song again,"

"See? No comeback,"

"Eponine . . ."

"I'm singin' I'm singin'! Don't get your cape in a twist,"

* * *

Eponine spent the next week or so juggling her lessons with Erik and her rehearsals at the new Opera Populaire. And she found herself being completely spent and exhausted at the end of the day. And quite often she would be forced to say next to nothing to Nadir to help preserve her voice. And Nadir would be understanding, and brew her a cup of herbal tea to sooth her throat before fixing her some broth so her voice wouldn't be affected by the food. Eponine reminded herself every day to one day thank Nadir for his kindness and hospitality. And more than once she wished wistfully that it had been _Nadir_ whom had raised her and been her father.

Carlotta was increasingly becoming a problem. It started off with the diva just throwing dirty looks and occasional meant-to-look-like-indirect-but-actually-direct insults Eponine's way. But then she started throwing tantrums whenever Eponine got even the smallest solo. Now, Eponine wasn't one to hog the lime-light, but she was working her _âne_ off and putting far more work into the productions than Carlotta, and that _chienne_ got away with doing minimal rehearsal and threatening to leave if she didn't get the most time on stage! Really, Eponine didn't expect to be the star, but she wanted at least a little recognition for her work. Call her selfish for wanting at least some of a reward for her work.

But on the brighter side, Eponine's relationship with Erik was strengthening.

One day during their lessons, Eponine was telling Erik about one of Carlotta's tantrums earlier that day, and she was having a hard time keeping a straight face while doing so.

" . . . she actually _threw_ 'er dog at Andre! I thought 'er maid was goin' to 'ave a 'eart-attack! And you should 'ave seen the color of 'er face . . . 'er complexion normally goes well with red, but this time it matched it!" Eponine exclaimed, her own face turning red due to her laughter.

Erik himself was chuckling at Eponine's story. "I'm starting to think that Carlotta is the comedic-relief of my life, not the scourge," he commented.

Eponine shook her head. "The things she does to ensure she gets the part . . . sometimes I find it too ridiculous to be angry,"

"Still, I find it unjust that she manages to get the lead when she does only a fraction of a chorus girl's work," Erik said, frowning.

Eponine just shrugged. "Eventually the managers will get too tired of 'earin' 'er tantrums. That or she'll actually leave. Really nothin' I can do about it,"

"But perhaps there is something _I_ can do . . ."

"I don't need you to make 'er croak, 'owever amusin' that would be. I appreciate the offer, though. I'm flattered that you would 'umiliate Carlotta for me," Eponine said.

"Who said anything about me doing it for you? I just don't think I'll be able to sit through hearing that woman sing. Angels weep from joy when you sing, Eponine. They weep and bleed to death from their ears when Carlotta sings," Erik said.

Eponine laughed. "You're a good friend to 'ave around, Monsieur Erik,"

"Erik," the Phantom said.

"What?" Eponine asked.

"You can just call me Erik, no Monsieur," Erik said.

Eponine looked at him, a smile slowly growing on her face. "Fine then; you can just call me 'Ponine,"

"But I already call you that sometimes," Erik said.

"But no I'm givin' you permission to do so, _Erik_," Eponine said, smiling.

Erik raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so now I need permission?" he asked.

"Sure, friends don't call each other names unless it's alright with the other friend. I thought you knew that," Eponine said jokingly.

"I haven't had many friends, to tell you the truth," Erik said, his face growing a little more somber.

Eponine's smile faded a little. "'ow did you come to meet Nadir, Erik?" she asked.

Erik looked down and closed his eyes.

"If you don't want to talk about it, you don't 'ave to," Eponine said quickly.

Erik shook his head. "No, no, you have a right to know: we've known each other long enough," he sighed before looking up at her.

"I was born with my face, Eponine. There was no fire, no accident, unless you can call being born an accident. My father left me, my mother feared me. She put a mask on my face before she wrapped me in a blanket. When I was just six years old I ran; she was seeing another man, and he was urging her to get rid of me. I don't even know why she kept me all those years. I didn't want her life to be anymore torture because of me, so I left. I wandered for weeks, lost, until I was found by a man with dark skin and darker eyes."

"Nadir," Eponine guessed.

Erik shook his head. "No, it was another Persian man, though he served the Shah just as Nadir had. He was repulsed by my face, but he thought that I would be good amusement for the Shah, so he brought me to Persia and presented me too the Shah. At seven years old I was taught to use the Punjab lasso, and with it I killed for the mother of the Shah's amusement. I showed an interest in architecture, so I was tutored, and a few meager drawings I made at eight were used to create the Shah's new palace. But he grew afraid that I knew too much of his new fortress, so he ordered to have me killed. Nadir saved me, as he had been given charge over me, and had grown to at least pity me. So he smuggled me out of Persia and left me in my home country of France. I was left with a music box to keep the silence of the night away. Soon after I was captured by gypsies, and for many years I was their main attraction. "The Devil's Child" and "The Living Corpse" I was called. I was ridiculed, whipped, and kept in a cage, until one day, the Gypsies were touring in Paris. A group of young ballerinas came to see the troupe, and they screamed when they saw me, just as everyone else did. After they left, the showman came to the bars of my cage and laughed at me, saying I "put on a good show." Something inside me snapped, and I took a rope that had been lying at my feet, and with it I strangled him like I had the victims at the Shah's palace. There was a ballerina who had lingered behind, and she saw me kill him. She smuggled me out of the Gypsies' camp and took me to the Opera Populaire, and I remained hidden below. I made the underground my home, I memorized the passages, and I created the persona of the Phantom of the Opera. You know the rest," Erik said.

Eponine stared at him, and she gently put her hand on his shoulder. Erik looked up at her in surprise.

"I'm sorry. You 'ad every right to wallow," she said softly.

Erik smiled at her sadly. "It's alright, I needed that punch or two in the face to keep me out of my despair,"

"I didn't mean it unkindly, you do know that. I was just tryin' to keep you from killin' yourself," Eponine said.

"And you succeeded, 'Ponine. I no longer nor have I had the urge to kill myself in months," Erik assured her.

"'as it really been that long?" Eponine asked.

"Almost a quarter of a year," Erik replied.

Eponine shook her head in wonder.

Erik chuckled. "Well, you had best get going; Nadir will begin to worry, I have no doubt. Get some food and some rest," Erik said.

"Yes, _father_," Eponine said sarcastically before grinning at him and skipping down to the gondola.

"Do you want me to row you back?" Erik asked.

Eponine shook her head. "No thanks, I'll be fine. See you tomorrow!" Eponine waved before hopping into the boat and rowing off.

Erik watched her go with a smile. Friend. She had called him friend. She actually enjoyed his company. They argued still, but it was more out of fun than out of actual hate. Erik looked over at the sketches on his desk, and his eyes darkened. He walked over and picked them up. They were all of the same dark-haired soprano, and he clutched them tightly. Closing his eyes, he tore up the sketches, and he held them to a candle before throwing them down on the stone floor so they could burn safely.

He had finally stopped loathing himself, now it was time for him to stop obsessing over Christine.

* * *

Whew! Sorry this took so long to post! And I've got to say, this is the first story that I've updated on consistently! You know, at least one update a week. That's a first for me! XD Oh, and what I want to know is why the chapters right smack in the middle of my story (Masquerade to Down Once More) are the most-read chapters of this story, right next to the first chapter. Any ideas? I find it EXTREMELY weird. I mean seriously, SMACK. IN. THE. MIDDLE.

If you were curious, that song they sang was "Sun and Moon" from Miss Saigon.

Oh, and I only have TEN reviews for FIFTEEN chapters. That doesn't make for a happy writer. See that? That's a frowny face. PLEASE REVIEW! I know people are reading it, I get alerts when you add the story to your subscription list! So please, take thirty seconds and REVIEW! PLEASE!

~FantasticMisticalWonder (FMW/Wonder)


	16. Vivre

Disclaimer: You guys know I don't own Les Miserables or Phantom of the Opera, so don't even THINK about giving me any of that Copyright Infringement crap. I'm not making any money off of this, so don't even try.

* * *

After her morning lessons – during which they continued to work on Sun and Moon – Eponine went to the renovated Opera House, happily humming. She walked into the theatre, and smiled in a friendly way at the dancers and chorus-girls she passed.

"Mornin', Meg," Eponine greeted when the blonde ballerina skipped up to the street-girl's side.

"Hello, 'Ponine. You seem in a good mood, today," Meg commented.

"I suppose it's just one of those mornin's, you know?" Eponine said.

"I suppose. What are you humming? I don't recognize it," Meg asked.

"It's just a song my teacher taught me of 'is own composition," Eponine said.

"It sounds lovely," Meg said before starting when she heard Madame Giry call out for the dancers.

"Oh, I have to go! Talk to you later!" Meg called before running to the stage.

Eponine smiled and was going to go get in costume when she heard a commotion in the theatre. Curious, Eponine walked out to the stageand peaked over the heads of the dancers.

"What do you-a mean I cannot-a singthis song?" Carlotta demanded.

"Maddemoiselle, this song is in too low a key for you. It is intended for the alto," the maestro said.

Everyone turned and looked at the startled Eponine.

"What? No no no no no no no. Why are you even' a-playing that a-piece?"

"Mademoiselle, it fits perfectly with the Opera – remember, Messieurs Andre and Firmin said that the play needed a song with more heart to comfort the people after the tragedy with the June Rebellion?"

Eponine closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The June Rebellion. The massacre of her friends.

"I do not a-care about 'heart.' Either make that song for me to sing, or I will not sing at all!" Carlotta shouted before marching off.

Monsieur Reyer – the conductor – sighed and wiped his forehead with his kerchief.

"What's going on in here?" Monsieur Firmin demanded as he and Andre walked into the theatre.

"Carlotta has quit yet again, Messieurs," Madame Giry said.

"What? Why? What was it this time?" Monsieur Andre asked.

"Monsieur Reyer wanted to play a song for the alto," Madame Giry replied.

"Honestly, that woman is insufferable," Firmin groaned.

"What is this song, Monsieur Reyer?" Andre asked.

"I thought it would bring the correct tone to the opera. It is that emotional song you were asking for," Reyer said.

"Where did you find this song?" Firmin asked, taking the sheet music from Reyer.

"It was on my music stand this morning. I don't know who put it there. I had assumed it was one of you," Monsieur Reyer said.

Eponine had an uneasy feeling in her stomach.

"Well, why don't we have Eponine sing this? Here," Andre said, handing the music to the street girl.

Eponine looked down at the music, and she felt her stomach drop.

"Is everything alright, Mademoiselle?" Monsieur Reyer asked.

"Fine, Maestro," Eponine said before Monsieur Reyer began to play on the piano.

Eponine took a deep breath, and opened her mouth before singing.

"_I don't know if you can hear me,_

_Or if you're even there . . ."_

* * *

Erik was waiting as usual by the boat when Eponine arrived.

"How were rehearsals today?" Erik asked, a smug grin on his face.

"Oh, you know very well 'ow they went," Eponine snapped.

Erik raised an eyebrow. "Do I?"

"Unless someone stole your song and put it on Monsieur Reyer's music stand, then you're the prime suspect for what 'appened today," Eponine said, climbing into the gondola.

"I can assure you that I have no idea what you're talking about," Erik said.

Eponine sniffed. "Sure you don't,"

Erik just smiled at her, but said nothing. Eponine sat in the gondola, equally as silent, but started when she heard Erik begin to hum.

"What is that?" Eponine asked, turning around to face him.

"Hm? Oh, it's just something I was writing last night," Erik said.

"Could you sing it for me?" Eponine asked.

Erik looked down at her and gave her and amused grin. "Would you like me to?"

"I might forget about the fact that you snuck your music into the Opera 'ouse if you did," Eponine said.

Erik chuckled and then opened his mouth to sing.

"_My gift is my song_

_And this one's for you_

_And you can tell everybody_

_That this is your song,"_

"Carlotta would kill me if I did that," Eponine giggled.

"_It may be quite simple_

_But now that it's done_

_Hope you don't mind_

_I hope you don't mind_

_That I put down in words_

_How wonderful life is now you're in the world,"_ Erik sang, looking down at Eponine and smiling. And she smiled back.

"_Sat on the roof_

_And I kicked off the moss_

_Well some of the verses well_

_They got me quite cross," _

"Cross enough to Punjab Buquet?" Eponine asked, raising an eyebrow.

"_But the sun's been kind_

_While I wrote this song_

_It's for people like you that_

_Keep it turned on,"_

"You mean urchins and thieves?" Eponine asked.

"_So excuse me for forgetting_

_But these things I do_

_You see I've forgotten_

_If they're green or they're blue_

_Anyway the thing is what I really mean_

_Yours are the sweetest eyes I've ever seen,"_

"Now you're just bein' a kiss-up," Eponine laughed.

"_And you can tell everybody_

_This is your song_

_It may be quite simple_

_But now that it's done_

_I hope you don't mind_

_I hope you don't mind that I put down in words_

_How wonderful life is now you're in the world_

_I hope you don't mind_

_I hope you don't mind that I put down in words_

_How wonderful life is now you're in the world," _Erik finished.

Eponine grinned. "You certainly know 'ow to make a girl forgive you," she commented.

Erik grinned back. "J'ai de bonnes raisons de,"

Eponine chuckled.

When they finally reached the lair, they went through their usual ritual of Eponine refusing Erik's helping hand and waiting for the masked man over by the organ while he whipped his cape through the air. Eponine looked up at the ceiling when Erik came over, and Erik looked at her curiously.

"What are you looking for?" he asked.

"The bats," Eponine said.

"The bats?" Erik repeated.

Eponine nodded. "The bats you were tryin' to catch with your cape,"

"I wasn't trying to –" Erik stopped and glared at Eponine while she continued to give him that wide-eyed innocent look.

"Certaines choses ne changent jamais," he muttered.

"Would you have me any other way?" Eponine asked, grinning broadly.

"Let's just get on with the lesson," Erik sighed.

"Sun and Moon?" Eponine asked.

Erik nodded. "Sun and Moon," he said before playing on the organ.

"_You are sunlight_

_And I moon . . ."_

* * *

When Eponine arrived at rehearsal the next day, she heard powerful music resounding through the theatre, and she found chills running up her spine. _Merde_, that was good music! And yet there was something familiar about it . . .

Eponine groaned. Erik. It had to be him. Why couldn't he just leave her be?

Sighing, Eponine entered the theatre, the full force of the music hitting her in the face.

"_Sing the bells!_

_Bells!_

_Bells!_

_Bells!_

_Bells!_

_Bells!_

_Bells!_

_Bells!_

_Bells of Notre Dame!" _the new tenor – what was his name again? Ah, Francois – sang, accompanied by the chorus. Eponine blinked as the chills ran up her spine again, but she shook them off and walked towards the stage.

"Ah, Eponine, welcome," Monsieur Reyer said.

"The music is lovely, Monsieur Reyer," Eponine complimented.

"Yes, I found a full opera on my music stand this morning," Monsieur Reyer responded.

"A full opera?" Eponine exclaimed.

Monsieur Reyer nodded. "Yes, it is called _Le Bossu de Notre Dame_,"

"The Hunchback of Notre Dame?" Eponine repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, the story of the deformed man who rings the bells of Notre Dame, and how he tragically falls in love with a gypsy girl, who is at the center of the desires of not only the hunchback himself, but the handsome captain of the guards and the man who raised the hunchback himself,"

_This has Erik written all over it_, Eponine thought wryly.

"What 'appens?" Eponine asked.

"Well, the gypsy falls in love with the Captain of the Guards, breaking the hunchback's heart, but the old judge is driven by his lust for her, and nearly destroys all of Paris in his attempt to own her. It's really quite the opera," Monsieur Reyer said appreciatively.

_Hm, the beautiful girl falling in love with the handsome hero instead of the ugly hunchback or the older man. Erik really must need to get out a lot of his grief about the Christine incident still, _Eponine thought.

" . . .are to play Esmeralda," Monsieur Reyer said.

Eponine blinked. "Pardon, I didn't catch that,"

"I said you are to play Esmeralda, the gypsy dancer caught amidst the chaos," Monsieur Reyer repeated.

Eponine opened her mouth and closed it. "Oh," she squeaked.

Monsieur Reyer chuckled. "No need to fret, Mademoiselle, you'll do swimmingly,"

"I'm just worried Carlotta is goin' to 'ave a 'issy fit," Eponine commented.

"Oh, don't worry about Carlotta . . ."

"What is the a-meaning of this?" the diva demanded, marching into the theatre.

Eponine inwardly groaned.

"What is this I a-hear about me not a-being Esmeralda? Why her? She has a-no experience!" Carlotta exclaimed.

"My diva, there is a perfectly good explination for this . . ." Monsieur Reyer stuttured.

"There a-better be!"

"You do not have the talent, Mademoiselle," Madame Giry said, stepping up.

Carlotta gaped at her. "Excuse a-me?"

"La Esmeralda is not just a singing part, Mademoiselle. The actress playing her must also have dancing ability, which you do not," Madame Giry said.

"And she a-does?" Carlotta said.

"Yes. I trained her myself when she first came here four months ago. She still has much room for improvement, but there is potential. Besides, I know she will put the right amount of effort into learning her dances," Madame Giry said.

Carlotta fumed. "This is an outrage! I will not stand for it!"

"I'm afraid you will have to, Mademoiselle," Firmin said, walking into the theatre with Andre beside him.

"What?" Carlotta asked.

"Firmin and I talked it over, and we decided that your pay demand was too high," Andre said.

"You will not believe the things your paycheck did to my health," Firmin said.

_I bet it wasn't just her pay_, Eponine thought.

"What are you a-going with this?" Carlotta demanded, putting her hands on her hips.

"Mademoiselle, I suggest you pick up your things from your dressing room," Andre said.

"Yes, you will no longer be needing it," Firmin said.

Carlotta's mouth dropped open. "What?"

"Your contract has been nullified, and I suggest the you find work elsewhere," Andre clarified.

Carlotta's face turned red, then purple, and then red again. "_What_?" she screeched.

"Mademoiselle, it would be best for you to take your things and leave," Firmin said.

"And who do you expect to take my a-place, hm? That street filth?" Carlotta asked, pointing her fan at Eponine.

"Mademoiselle Eponine has the talent and ability," Monsieur Reyer said.

"But not the name! Do you really a-think that she will be able to pull in a crowd? No! No one will come to see a little street rat perform!" Carlotta exclaimed.

"Let us deal with the marketing, Mademoiselle," a voice said.

Eponine's face paled, and she watched in horror as the Vicomte de Chagny walked into the theatre. And following him, was Monsieur Marius.

" _. . .and then that Baron Pontmercy friend of yours came to the latest party for the new Opera House – he's one of our patrons now . . ." _

Merde, she had forgotten Marius was one of the patrons of the new Opera House.

Eponine quickly ducked her head, letting her hair fall in front of her face. What would she say to him? "Hi, remember when I died in your arms at the barricades? Well, I didn't actually die, I was just mostly dead, and then the ghost that used to haunt the Opera Populaire – you know, the same one that kidnapped me – he followed me to the barricades and then he saved me and took me to his mysterious Persian friend to look after me. How's Cosette?"

Yeah, that would go over well.

"Now, I suggest that you leave, Mademoiselle. You have caused many people at this theatre much grief, and I'm afraid that you're not very welcome here anymore," Raoul said.

Carlotta fumed, but she stomped out of the theatre, pushing past the two young men, screaming in Italian.

"She took that rather well, I thought," Marius commented to Raoul.

"Well at least she didn't throw her dog at me," Andre said.

"Gentlemen, please, we have a rehearsal going on," Monsieur Reyer said.

"Yes, of course. Pardon me. But if you don't mind, I think I would like to see this new talent you have discovered perform," Raoul said.

Monsieur Reyer nodded. "Yes, of course Messeurs. Please, take a seat. Ah, Mademoiselle, could you please sing that song I taught you yesterday?"

Eponine nodded. "Of course, Monsieur," she said, glancing over at the two men every once in a while. They didn't seem to notice anything. Maybe she looked too different. Both had seen her cleaned up, but those few months ago she still had that emaciated look about her. But now she had filled out more, and her hair was brighter and more healthy looking. Her accent was still the same as it had been – and Eponine didn't think that would ever change - but if she kept her speaking to a minimum and her contact with them brief and distant, there was a chance they might not recognize her.

Eponine nodded and waited for Monsieur Reyer's signal before singing.

"_La nuit est si belle_

_Et je suis seule_

_Je n'ai pas envie de mourir_

_Je veux encore chanter_

_Danser et rire,"_ Eponine started, glancing nervously at Raoul and Marius again. They again, seemed oblivious to her identity. Good, she was still safe.

"_Je ne veux pas mourir_

_Mourir_

_Avant d'avoir aimé_

_Vivre_

_Pour celui qu'on aime_

_Aimer_

_Plus que l'amour même_

_Donner_

_Sans rien attendre en retour,"_ there was a slight frown on Raoul's face, and he scrutinized her. Eponine inwardly gulped. He had heard her sing before. Granted she was much better now, but still, he might recognize her voice.

"_Libre_

_De choisir sa vie_

_Sans un anathème_

_Sans un interdit_

_Libre_

_Sans dieu ni patrie_

_Avec pour seul baptême_

_Celui de l'eau de pluie_

_Vivre_

_Pour celui qu'on aime_

_Aimer_

_Plus que l'amour même_

_Donner_

_Sans rien attendre en retour,"_ Raoul's frown deepened, and Eponine hoped fervently that this was due to a stomach ache rather than remember her.

"_Ces deux mondes qui nous séparent_

_Un jour seront-ils réunis_

_Oh ! je voudrais tell'ment y croire_

_Même s'il me faut donner ma vie_

_Donner ma vie_

_Pour changer l'histoire,"_ Raoul's eyes opened wide, and Eponine felt panic well up inside her. Oh, merde, he remembered!

"_Vivre_

_Pour celui qu'on aime_

_Aimer_

_Plus que l'amour même_

_Donner_

_Sans rien attendre en retour,"_ Raoul was leaning over and whispering something urgently in Marius' ear now, and the young Baron's eyes opened wide.

Oh, merde.

"_Aimer_

_Comme la nuit aime le jour_

_Aimer_

_Jusqu'à en mourir d'amour_

_Jusqu'à en mourir d'amour,"_ Eponine finished, averting her eyes from the horrified look on Marius' face. But not before she had seen him mouth "'Ponine."

"Well done, Mademoiselle," Monsieur Reyer said.

Eponine bowed her head. "Thank you, Monsieur,"

"Bravi! Bravi!" Firmin clapped.

"Stupenda, Mademoiselle, stupenda!" Andre added.

Eponine gave a small smile and bowed her head.

"Monsieurs, I would like to introduce you to Miss Eponine Thenardier." Firmin said, gesturing for Eponine to come forward and greet the two patrons. Eponine did so, averting her eyes to the floor.

"Quite a discovery I must say. Honestly, popped right out of the blue, just like Miss Daae," Andre said.

"Yes, you were marvelous, Miss Thenardier," Raoul said, though his eyes were full of questions.

"You have a bright future ahead of you," Marius added, trying to hide his emotion, judging by the sound of his voice.

Eponine nodded her head in thanks, not looking him in the eyes for fear of the shame that would course through her at the sight of his hopeless-looking eyes. Those eyes that had beguiled her into finding Cosette for him and delivering his notes to her despite the heart-ache it caused her. No, if she looked into those eyes she would break. It was best to keep quiet and eyes downcast for now.

At least they were refraining from bringing up the subject now, when everyone else could see and hear. They must not have wanted to start a scene. And Eponine was grateful for that.

"Now, if you gentlemen don't mind, we still have a rehearsal going on," Monsieur Reyer reminded them.

Raoul nodded. "Yes, of course," he said before walking out of the theatre with Marius, Andre, and Firmin.

Eponine gulped and turned back around, walking to the stage and getting in place. She was not looking forward to the end of rehearsal.

* * *

When Eponine stepped out of the theatre, she was grateful to see that neither the Vicomte nor Marius were in sight. She sighed in relief. Maybe they had left. Maybe she had just imagined that they recognized her. Maybe they didn't know it was her despite Firmin saying her full name . . .

"Eponine!" Marius called, running up to her.

Eponine inwardly groaned.

"'Ponine, I can't believe it's you!" Marius exclaimed, embracing Eponine. The girl remained stiff, and she looked over his shoulder warily as the Vicomte approached them.

"It truly is remarkable to see you, Mademoiselle," Raoul said.

"There's a lot of remarkable things in the world, Monsieur," Eponine replied.

Marius broke away from her, holding her shoulders and staring at her incredulously. "How is this possible? You died at the barricades, I saw you!"

Eponine felt the panic inside her, but she swallowed it and just shook her head. "I don't know, Monsieur. I just remember passing out, thinking I 'ad died, and then wakin' up with a doctor lookin' after me," she lied. Well, it was partially true. She didn't remember anything about Erik saving her, and Nadir qualified as a doctor.

"How?" Marius asked.

Eponine shrugged. "I don't know, Monsieur. I 'ad assumed that one of your friends 'ad carried me to safety,"

Marius shook his head, "No, no one went. We had all assumed you had died," Marius said before crying out and embracing Eponine again.

"Oh, 'Ponine, it is wonderful to see you alive. I was afraid that all of my friends had perished at the barricades . . ."

Eponine broke away, "So, it's true then? No one survived?" she asked.

Marius shook his head. "I don't even know how I survived myself. I was shot at the barricades and blacked out. Next thing I knew I was in Cosette's home being tended to by Cosette herself. Perhaps the same savior who spared my life also spared yours!" Marius suggested.

_Probably not,_ Eponine thought, but instead she smiled at him. "Per'aps, Monsieur, per'aps," she said.

"What I am curious about, Mademoiselle, is how you escaped the clutches of the Phantom," Raoul said.

Eponine felt her stomach drop. "Pardon?" she asked.

"When you were taken by the Phantom during Don Juan, I thought you'd never see the light of day again. How did you manage it?" Raoul asked.

Eponine shrugged. "'e drugged me, and then I woke up in the ABC Café," Eponine explained.

Marius chuckled. "Yes, Enjolras told me about that one. He said you woke up screaming 'that sick bastard,'" he said.

"You'd be mad if someone drugged you, too," Eponine replied, a little more at ease now.

Marius smiled. "Why don't you come with us? Cosette would love to see you again!"

I doubt it, Eponine thought, but instead she shook her head. "I'm sorry, I can't be late for my lessons," she said.

Raoul's head shot up. "Lessons?" he asked.

Eponine inwardly cursed. Why had she said that? "Yes, Monsieur, I 'ave singin' lessons every day," she said.

"He must be a great teacher to have taught to sing like you did in there," Raoul said.

Eponine nodded. "Yes, 'e is very good at 'is job,"

"What's his name? Perhaps I know him," Raoul said carefully.

"I doubt you'd know 'is name, Monsieur, I'm one of 'is first students. Now, if you don't mind, 'e tends to get irritated when I'm late, and when 'e's irritated 'e gives me these long speeches that bore me to death," Eponine said.

Raoul nodded, "Of course," he said.

Eponine nodded her head and quickly made her way out of the theatre and towards the ruins of the Opera House, looking back over her shoulder to make sure that Raoul and Marius weren't following her.

Well, things just got more complicated.

* * *

Sorry that this took so long. But on the upside, there's plot development! :O I bet you'd thought I'd lost all sense of the word! XD

The song Erik sings is "How Wonderful Life Is" that's probably by some other artist, but I heard it in Moulin Rouge. Eponine sings "Vivre" from Notre Dame de Paris. The link to the vid with the English subtitles is on my account.

Oh, and as for the Hunchback of Notre Dame "opera" they will be performing, it's probably going to have a mixture of the Disney songs and the Notre Dame de Paris songs in it. I know it'll be a little inconsistent with the French vs English lyrics, but technically they're always singing/speaking in French, the only difference being I can't find good English translation lyrics for the Notre Dame de Paris songs. XD So, yeah, if you want to know what the songs are about, the links to the ones I use will be on my profile.

Until the next installment!

~FantasticMisticalWonder (FMW/Wonder)


	17. Ma Maison C'est Ta Maison

Disclaimer: What do you guys want, some big production number? I OWN NOTHING!

* * *

Erik knew something was wrong with Eponine the moment he saw her. Her face was stark white, and she was trembling all over. Erik stepped out of the boat and walked towards Eponine, frowning.

"Eponine, are you alright?" Erik asked.

Eponine opened her mouth, but only a squeak came out. She took a step forward and stumbled. Erik jumped and just managed to catch her before her face became aquainted with the cave floor. Now Erik was worried. Eponine only stumbled when something was bothering her.

"What's wrong?" Erik asked.

"Damn corset," Eponine grumbled into his coat.

Erik swiftly took a knife from his pocket and cut through the bonds, and Eponine let out a sigh of relief.

"Eponine, what's wrong?" Erik repeated.

Eponine looked up at him and then over her shoulder, biting her lip.

"Could we talk back in the lair?" she asked.

Erik frowned, but he nodded and gently led Eponine to the boat before pushing off. He would occasionally look down to check on her, but Eponine remained silent, facing forward.

When they finally reached the lair, Erik stepped out of the boat first, holding out his hand for Eponine to take. And she did, which only made Erik worry even more.

"Eponine, something's wrong, tell me," Erik said, taking her shoulders in his hands.

"Could you close the gate?" Eponine asked quietly, refusing to meet his eyes.

Erik frowned, but he walked over to the lever and pulled it, the gate jerking down. Erik turned and looked at the girl standing in his lair. She looked so frail, so scared. Something was definitely wrong.

"Something's troubling you, what is it?" Erik asked, walking over to Eponine and taking her face in his hands.

Eponine looked up at him, tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"Sorry for what?" Erik asked.

"onsieur Marius and the Vicomte de Chagny: they're the new patrons of the Opera Populaire. They saw me and recognized me and I said I was takin' music lessons and now I'm afraid the Vicomte knows you're still in Paris and 'e'll send the police after you," Eponien gulped.

Erik blinked. She was worried about him. She _cared_ about him.

"I'm so sorry," Eponine sobbed, throwing he rarms around Erik and burying her face in his chest.

Erik awkwardly put his arms around Eponine and gently stroked her hair. "It's alright," je whispered.

Eponine looked up at him, and as fresh tears threatened to spill from her eyes, she leaned up and pressed her lips against Erik's.

Erik stood there, too shocked to do anything. Before he could get his wits about himself, Eponine pulled away, looking up at him sadly.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

Before Erik could ask what she meant, he heard the click of a gun behind him and he froze.

"Don't move a muscle, _angel_," a voice sneered.

Erik's blood ran cold. That was the Vicomte's voice.

"Eponine, back away from him," the Vicomte commanded.

Eponine, her eyes still on Erik's face, began to back away. As soon as she was out of arms reach, a young man came running forward and embraced her.

"'Ponine! Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm fine, Monsieur Marius," Eponine said, he eyes never leaving Erik's face.

"Did he hurt you?" Marius asked.

"No, Monsieur," Eponine replied.

"Good work, Eponine. Without your help we could have never found this monster," the Vicomte said, walking around so that he was standing in front of Erik, his gun pointed at the masked man.

Tears rolled down Eponine's emotionless face.

"I'd turn you over to the police, but I have a feeling you'd be able to evade them," the Vicomte de Chagny said.

Eponine closed her eyes.

"No one will miss an Opera Ghost they all ready believe to be dead," the Vicomte said, pressing the gun against Erik's head.

Eponine turned her head.

"Eponine," Erik called.

She hunched her shoulders but did not turn around.

"'Ponine, please!" Erik cried.

Eponine wrapped her arms around herself.

"'Ponine! You gave me a reason to live! Don't let me die!" Erik pleaded.

"She won't listen to your lies anymore," the Vicomte growled, pulling the trigger.

The gunshot rang out throughout the cavern.

And Erik woke up with a jolt, panting and in a cold sweat.

Once he realized that it had been a dream, that there wasn't a bullet in his head, and that Eponine hadn't betrayed him, he put his head in his hands. Eponine had come to him after rehearsals, a little shaken but not nearly as traumatized as she had been in the dream. She had told him about her encounter with the Vicomte and Marius, and had expressed her worry about him. But the two patrons had not followed her, they had not tried to kill him, and Eponine was still his friend.

Sighing, Erik ran a hand through his dirty blond hair before getting out of bed. Standing up, he went to the lake to take his bath. Once he had finished cleansing himself of the dream, he dressed, and then put on his wig and mask. Then sighing, he went over to the gondola and pushed off, going to wait for Eponine by the shore.

When Eponine arrived, she had a shawl wrapped around her, and her cap on her head. She always wore that cap. Erik had never seen her without it. It was the same cap that she wore when she was still living in poverty. When Erik had asked her why she insisted on wearing it, she had replied "You don't see me pesterin' you about that ridiculous cape,"

To which he had replied. "Maybe it's magic,"

And Eponine had retorted "Maybe you should Punjab yourself,"

But she had said it with a smile on her face, so Erik didn't really take her seriously.

"Hello, Eponine," Erik said as Eponine climbed into he boat.

"Mornin'," Eponine replied, turning to smile at Erik.

"How was your night?" Erik asked as he began to push the boat forward.

"Good," Eponine said, remaining silent for a moment.

"I want to visit the graveyard," Eponine said suddenly.

"Oh?" Erik replied, looking down at Eponine in surprise.

Eponine nodded. "Yes, I want to visit their graves. Pay my respects, you know?" she asked.

Erik nodded. "Yes, I do," he said, suddenly turning the boat around.

"What are you doing?" Eponine asked.

"Field trip," Erik said, stopping at the tunnel that led to the sewers.

"Come with me," Erik said, stepping out of the boat.

Eponine gave him a look, but she stepped out of the boat and followed Erik into the tunnel.

"Where are we goin'?" Eponine asked.

"You'll see," Erik replied, smiling at her.

As they kept on walking, the tunnel kept on getting darker and darker. Eventually, Erik heard Eponine stop in her tracks.

"Erik, I can't see a thing. I can't go any further," Eponine said.

Erik turned around and Eponine gasped. He smiled bitterly.

"Do you still think there's a place in heaven for me?" he asked.

"Mon dieu," Eponine gasped, reaching her hand up to touch Erik's face.

"Your eyes, they're –"

"Glowing? I know, they do that," Erik said.

"'ow is that possible?" Eponine asked.

"Just another defect I was born with. It only strengthened my mother's fear that I was hell spawn," Erik said.

Eponine frowned. "But I've seen you in the dark before, and your eyes didn't glow then,"

"Eye drops of my own design. I came up with it shortly after I was brought to live here. It would be difficult for me to snoop if my eyes were continuously glowing," Erik said.

Eponine grinned, and Erik held out his hand.

"Take my hand, I don't want to worry about you walking into a wall," Erik said dryly.

Eponine rolled her eyes, but she slipped her hand into Erik's, and he gently led her along.

'_She's completely trusting me, just like Christine did,'_ Erik thought, remembering when he first led Christine down to his lair, using his music to calm and persuade her. But this time, it took no sweet words or songs, Eponine utterly trusted him.

"Are we almost there?" Eponine asked.

"Almost," Erik said, smiling.

Eponine sighed, but then let out a yelp when Erik removed his hand.

"Don't move, I'll be right back," Erik said before climbing p a ladder and opening the grate above him. He looked down at Eponine as she shielded her eyes against the bright light.

"_Turn your face away_

_From the garish light of day,"_ Erik sang, smiling.

Eponine rolled her eyes and smiled.

"_You are sunlight,"_ she reminded him before she let him help her above ground.

"Where are we?" Eponine asked, blinking to get her eyes adjusted to the sudden light.

"Look around you," Erik said.

Squinting, Eponine did so, and her eyes opened wide.

"You said you wanted to visit the graveyard," Erik said.

Eponine blinked and shook her head, smiling.

"What?" Erik asked.

"Nothing," Eponine replied, standing up and brushing herself off.

Erik looked around and then gestured for Eponine to follow him. "Come, let's go find your friends," he said.

Eponine nodded, and the two began to search the cemetery for the headstones of her friends. Eventually, Erik came across a gravestone that had a vaguely familiar name on it. Looking down at it, he squinted, and then turned to where Eponine was searching.

"'Ponine, wasn't one of your friends named Grantaire?" he asked.

Her head shooting up, Eponine rushed over to where Erik was standing, and she looked down at the headstone.

"Wasn't he the one who was always slobbering drunk?" he asked.

Eponine nodded, mixed emotions flickering across her face. Reaching out her hand, she drew her finger across the engraving, and then turned to look at the other headstones. She spent an equal amount of time at each one, caressing the engraved name and whispering something under her breath. Erik couldn't tell if it was a prayer, or her speaking to their ghosts, but he knew it was not in his place to ask, so he stepped back and let Eponine visit with her dead friends. When she turned to walk back to him, she was wiping tears off of her face, and Erik solemnly draped his cloak over her shoulders.

"They must 'ave scattered some of them around – not all of them are there," Eponine said, sniffing.

"I can look around during your rehearsals for you if you want," Erik offered.

Eponine shook her head. "No, I don't want to risk you gettin' caught by the police. Besides, they're just bodies now. Nothin' but 'usks. My friends are gone," Eponine said.

Erik nodded, and he gently led her back down to the sewers and to his lair.

Eponine was somber throughout their lessons, but she still put in the effort into improving her singing. She didn't talk back to him as much – and believe it or not, but Erik kind of missed it. Eventually, it came time for Eponine to go to her lessons. Erik rowed her across the lake and to the tunnel, and Eponine smiled at him before getting out of the boat.

"Thank you, for taking me to see them. I needed that," she said, gently kissing him on his unmasked cheek before getting out and walking towards the above world.

Erik stared after her, putting a hand to his cheek in surprise. They had been "friends" for a while now, but that was the first time Eponine had really shown any affection towards him. Yes, they joked together and made friendly comments, but never anything as intimate as that. Neither of them were really the type to hug every time they saw each other, so Erik was a little shocked. And yet, he felt something warm growing inside of him, a strange – but not unpleasant – feeling in his gut. And then it hit him.

Eponine _cared_ for him.

It was an alien feeling, one that Erik found strange. But it was a welcome feeling, and Erik found himself smiling as he rowed back to his lair. He continued to smile as he sat back down at his organ and began to write.

And throughout the underground expansion of tunnels, his song could be heard, and if any did hear it, they felt at that moment complete and utter joy, joy that can only be felt by one who has suffered through more than an eternity's worth of pain.

"_So many times out there_

_I've watched a happy pair_

_Of lovers walking in the night_

_They had a kind of glow around them_

_It almost looked like heaven's light_

_I knew I'd never know_

_That warm and loving glow_

_Though I might wish with all my might_

_No face as hideous as my face_

_Was ever meant for heaven's light_

_But suddenly an angel has smiled at me_

_And kissed my cheek without a trace of fright_

_I dare to dream that she_

_Might even care for me_

_And as I ring these bells tonight_

_My cold dark tower seems so bright_

_I swear it must be heaven's light,"_

* * *

Eponine spent most of that day learning her dances from Madame Giry. It was difficult, as she was nowhere near as good as the other dancers, but she did her best, and Madame Giry didn't seem too disappointed in her.

"Madame Giry, do you mind if I borrow Eponine? I would like to go over her duet with Boniface," Monsieur Reyer called.

Madame Giry nodded and Eponine walked over to where Boniface – he would be playing Quasimodo – was standing.

Eponine sat down on the stage and Boniface hunched over and squinted, taking on the physicality of the hunchback Quasimodo.

"_My friends the gargoyles_

_Are watching over you,"_ Boniface began, stumbling over to her. Eponine scooted backwards, slipping into the character of Esmeralda, afraid and hesitant of the hunchback.

"_They'll protect you from any fool,"_ he crouched down so they were both at eye-level, and Eponine looked at him warily.

"_Whenever you need shelter,"_ he scooted closer to her, and Eponine continued to move away from him.

"_Come to me_

_I'll protect you,"_ he reached out towards her and Eponine stood up and ran a little ways back.

"_Notre-Dame of Paris_

_Is my house, my nest_

_It's my city, my life_

_My air, my roof, my bed,"_ he sang, Eponine looking around at the imaginary cathedral, and Boniface looking at her.

"_It's my song, my voice_

_My reason, my folly_

_My passion, my country_

_My prison, my homeland,"_ he sang, looking down.

"_Your friends the gargoyles_

_Are my friends too,"_ Eponine sang, looking around and pretending to see the gargoyles around her.

"_They make me laugh _

_On days when I'm bored_

_You're like them_

_And I like you for that,"_ Eponine sang, looking over at Boniface who looked down bashfully.

"_Even though I'm scared of you _

_Most of the time,"_ Eponine looked away from him and up at the imaginary gargoyles.

"_In my house"_ Boniface began again.

"_It's always comfy_

_Warm in the winter_

_In the summer it's cool,"_ he sang before looking sharply over at Eponine.

"_You are always welcome,_

_Any time of the year,_

_If you like, my house_

_Could be yours as well,"_ he sang, looking over at Eponine and then looking down shyly.

Slowly, Eponine walked towards him, and in that moment, she saw Erik, poor lonely Erik, and she put her hands into Boniface's. He looked up at her in surprise, and continued to sing.

"_Whenever you need shelter_

_Come to me, I'll protect you,"_ he sang, Eponine looking at him with pity before singing with him.

"_In my/your house,_

_It's always comfy_

_Warm in the winter_

_In the summer it's cool_

_You're/I'm always welcome_

_Any time of the year_

_My/Your house if you/I like," _

"_Could be yours as well,"_ Boniface sang. Eponine looked up at the chandelier, remembering how Nadir had taken her in, and how even Erik's lair had become like a second home to her.

"_Could be mine as well,"_ Eponine sang, giving a small smile.

Monsieur Reyer nodded. "Well done, both of you. Now, you both were clashing a little during this part . . ."

"Ah! Hello, Monsieur Reyer," Andre called, walking into the auditorium.

"Can I go one day without having my rehearsals interrupted?" Monsieur Reyer asked.

"Pardon, but we have an announcement to make," Monsieur Firmin said.

Monsieur Reyer sighed. "Very well, get it over with," he said, waving his hand.

"Well, this was actually an idea presented by our two patrons – the Vicomte de Chagny and Baron de Pontmercy – but they thought to help publicize our new opera, what with not having Carlotta to bring in the crowds, we would have a little Masquerade and performance of one of the songs. What do you think?" Monsieur Andre asked Monsieur Reyer.

"What song did they have in mind?" Monsieur Reyer asked, wiping his head with his kerchief – a habit that usually emerged when he was stressed.

"Isn't there a triplet between Frollo, Quasimodo, and Phoebus in Act I?" Firmin asked.

"It does explain the predicament of the love . . . rectangle, wouldn't you say so?" Andre asked.

Monsieur Reyer nodded. "Yes, yes. Alright, I'll have them prepare it. When will the Masquerad be?" he asked.

"A month from now," Firmin said.

Monsieur Reyer sighed "Alright, I'll see what I can do. Someone get Armand and Marquis so we can start the song. Madame Giry, could you choreograph something for Eponine to dance while the song is going on?" Monsieur Reyer asked.

Madame Giry nodded. "Of course. Eponine, come," Madame Giry said.

Eponine nodded and went to the ballet mistress. As she did, she looked up at the rafters. Erik wasn't there, she would have known if he was, but she couldn't help but wish that he was up there, watching. She was sure he would have been proud of how she had performed today. And that duet between Quasimodo and Esmeralda remind Eponine of how lonely Erik was on his own. Now she understood why Nadir liked that she was taking these lessons with Erik – without them, Erik would be completely alone, with no company to look forward to.

And Eponine would have no companionship to look forward to, either.

* * *

Wooh! Sorry that this took so long to upload. No real plot-development in this chapter, I'm afraid, but there is character and relationship-development.

Oh, and before anyone goes and says I made Erik like Edward Cullen because of the whole glowing eyes thing, no, I didn't. Erik has glowing eyes in the original Leroux novel (he really does, it's part of what freaks Christine out about him so much) so this is my little tribute to that, along with adding the Daroga (he got his name from the Kay novel, which I have never read but got all my info on from Wikipedia) to the cast of characters. So, yeah, don't go and start comparing Erik to that freak child of Tinkerbell and Gary-Stu.

The songs were "Heaven's Light" from Hunchback of Notre Dame and "Ma Maison C'est Ta Maison" from Notre Dame de Paris. I decided to use the subtitles from the video as a translation, so if you want to see the actual version of the song, the link's on my profile.

Oh, and a little shout-out to "some person" thank you for your wonderful review. XD It made my day, and it also gave me the little umph I needed to finish this chapter. I know there was little closure between Eponine and Enjolras – there WILL be some of that, you'll see – and I'm glad you like how I write Eponine and Erik. XD Lea Salong is my model for Eponine, though more personality wise than looks (I'm using more book-verse Eponine for that, what with the red-hair and everything). I'm sorry that my story was to fault for you not getting to sleep, and don't worry – I don't think you're crazy and creepy at all. To be honest, I wish all of my readers left reviews like yours. XD

That's all! Review!

~FantasticMisticalWonder (FMW/Wonder)


	18. Le Fantôme de l'Opéra

Disclaimer: Sometimes I wonder why I even bother . . . wait, that's Repo, never mind. But you get it, I own nothing. Cameron Macintosh is the king when it comes to Les Miserables and Phantom. Les Miserables is also owned by Hugo, Boublil, Schonberg, and Kretzmer. Phantom is the property of Leroux and Webber. That being said, keep your Punjab lassos AWAY from me, thank you!

* * *

Eponine arrived for her lessons on time, and Erik smiled at her as she climbed into the boat.

"How was rehearsal?" he asked.

"Alright. They're throwin' a Masquerade to 'elp market the opera," Eponine said.

Erik raised an eyebrow as he pushed off. "Don't they remember what happened last time?" he asked.

"They think you're dead, remember?" Eponine asked.

"Ah, I had almost forgotten about that," Erik said.

Eponine rolled her eyes. "Of course you'd forget your fake death," she muttered.

"How are they going to market the opera through a masquerade?" Erik asked.

"They're 'avin' us perform Belle in front of the people who attend," Eponine said.

Erik frowned. "They should have done a song that you sing in," he said reproachfully.

Eponine shrugged. "I'll be dancin'. None of my songs really explain the premise of the show, anyways," she said.

Erik sighed. "Well, I suppose it can't be helped," he said, pulling up to the shore of his lair and stepping out. He offered his hand to Eponine, and she rolled her eyes and stood up on her own. He walked over to the coat stand and took off his cape with a twirl, and he could hear Eponine's eyes rolling all the way from the organ.

"You goin' to pull a rabbit out of your 'at next?" she asked.

"I have a new song for you to sing," Erik said, ignoring her comment.

Eponine raised an eyebrow.

"It's another duet," Erik said, pulling out the sheet music.

Eponine took one look at the title, and she burst out laughing.

"What?" Erik asked.

"Are you serious?" Eponine asked.

"What?"

"You wrote a song about _yourself_?"

"Shortly after I had started teaching Christine the rumors about the Opera Ghost started circulating. I was inspired, you could say," Erik said.

Eponine rolled her eyes. "All right,"

"Will there be any problems with you singing this?" he asked.

"Not at all," Eponine said, smiling.

"Good, then let us begin," he said before slamming his hands on the keys, starting the song. Eponine jumped at the sudden loud music, and she glared at Erik. But she adjusted her stance and began to sing.

"_In sleep he sang to me_

_In dreams he came_

_That voice which calls to me_

_And speaks my name_

_And do I dream again _

_For now I find_

_The Phantom of the Opera is there_

_Inside my mind,"_ Eponine sang rolling her eyes. Erik was so melodramatic.

"_Sing once again with me_

_Our strange duet,"_ Erik sang.

_Strange duet indeed_, Eponine thought wryly.

"_My power over you_

_Grows stronger yet_

_And though you turn from me _

_To glance behind_

_The Phantom of the Opera is there_

_Inside your mind," _Erik sang looking at Eponine out of the corner of his eye. She stuck her tongue out at him before beginning her part.

"_Those who have seen your face_

_Draw back in fear_

_I am the mask you wear,"_ was that an insinuation or something?

"_It's me they hear,"_ Erik sang, and Eponine could have sworn she saw a mischievous twinkle in his grey-green eyes.

"_Your/My spirit and my/your voice_

_In one combined_

_The Phantom of the Opera is there_

_Inside my/your mind,"_ they sang together.

"Really, what is the point of this song?" Eponine asked.

"You'll see," Erik said, smiling before singing again.

"_In all your fantasies_

_You always knew_

_That man and mystery,"_

"_Were both in you,"_ Eponine sang.

"_And in this labyrinth_

_Where night is blind_

_The Phantom of the Opera is there_

_Inside your/my mind,"_ they sang, Erik turning to Eponine, his eyes sparkling.

Eponine raised an eyebrow, but she looked at the music and sang the next part.

"_He's there _

_The Phantom of the Opera,"_ she sang, her eyes opening wide as she saw the next part.

"Sing," Erik commanded.

Eponine opened her mouth, and she began to vocalize. This was insane! How did he expect her to sing this?

"You can do it, Eponine," Erik said.

Eponine glared at him, but continued to vocalize to the notes on the paper. They were getting increasingly higher, and Eponine was starting to find herself close to out of breath. Those short breaks in the music weren't long enough to get sufficient air to sing this!

"Don't falter, sing," Erik repeated.

Eponine continued to sing, and her throat started tightening as the notes got even higher.

"One more measure, almost there, Eponine!" Erik said.

Taking a deep breath, Eponine belted out the last note, and Erik turned to look at her, a smile on his face. Eponine probably would have made a smart retort, but she was too out of breath. Exhaling loudly, Eponine slumped down on the bench by Erik.

"You better 'ave a good reason for makin' me sing that," she grumbled.

"You did quite better than I expected you to," Erik said.

"If your intention was to kill me through air-loss, then you almost succeeded," Eponine grumbled.

Erik chuckled. "No, my intention is to build up your breath support, to make your lungs and voice stronger. You are going to have to sing _and_ dance at the same time while playing Esmeralda, and you can't be singing if you're breathing too heavily. My goal is to train you so you can sing and dance efficiently together," Erik said.

Eponine's eyes opened wide. "You're goin' to make me dance and sing that last part, aren't you?"

"After you're familiar enough with that part, yes," Erik said.

Eponine groaned and slumped against Erik. "Why don't you just Punjab me if you want to kill me?" she whined.

"What would be the fun in that?" Erik asked.

Eponine glared up at him. "I really 'ate you right now, do you know that?"

"I am starting to get the hint, yes," Erik replied, adjusting the music while trying not to jostle Eponine too much.

"And were I not exhausted, I would be given' you 'ell about all of the innuendoes I saw in that song," Eponine said.

"What? There weren't –"

"There were! Not as many as Don Juan, granted –"

"Ah, Don Juan. Brings back memories, doesn't it?"

Eponine snorted. "Yeah, memories of you tyin' me up and druggin' me," she said.

"You're never going to let me forget that, are you?" Erik asked.

"Nope, which reminds me –" Eponine mused before punching Erik in the arm.

"Ow!"

"That's for lickin' my 'and," Eponine said, crossing her arms.

"When did I ever lick your hand?" Erik asked, rubbing the spot where Eponine's fist had met his arm.

"At the Masquerade, remember?" Eponine asked.

"Oh, that? I thought you would have taken away my mocking your accent from that event, not a little kiss on the hand," Erik said.

"That wasn't a kiss, that was your tongue getting' acquainted with my 'and. And don't you worry – I was upset by the accent-thing, too," Eponine said.

"Do you have any pleasant memories of me from back then?" Erik asked.

"Well . . . . oh! There was that time when I turned your Punjabbin' against you –"

"Something that doesn't involve pain or embarrassment on my part," Erik specified dryly.

Eponine put her chin in her hand and thought. "I can't really think of anythin' . . . I mean, exploitin' you was 'elpin' me to forget Marius, but other than that . . . you just really rubbed me the wrong way back then," Eponine said.

"And you me," Erik replied, looking off, the jovial tone of his voice gone.

Sitting up, Eponine put a hand on Erik's shoulder. "But look at us now. I've changed, and so 'ave you. We're _friends_," Eponine said softly.

Erik looked over at her and smiled. "Who would have thought?"

"If anyone 'ad told me 'alf a year ago I'd be friends with the Opera Ghost, I'd 'ave called them crazy," Eponine agreed.

"And then robbed them,"

"Of course, that's a given,"

Erik turned and smiled at her before sighing and adjusting himself. "Come, we have a lot of work to do,"

Eponine groaned. "You're no fun, you know that?" she asked.

Erik gave her a quizzical look. "Fun? I don't think I know that word. Could you tell me what it is?"

Eponine rolled her eyes and playfully smacked him on the arm.

Erik chuckled. "Right then, back to the song. Start from where you vocalize, and I want you to work on your breath support . . ."

* * *

The next few days were rough for Eponine. Her lessons with Erik – though enjoyable, she had to admit – were quite demanding of her. After Erik was confident that Eponine knew the music well enough, he started having her do her Belle dance whilst singing.

That in itself was difficult.

And then at rehearsals, Eponine spent most of her time dancing as Monsieur Reyer and Madame Giry perfected the Belle scene. Eponine found herself going home to Nadir with sore legs, and a sore voice to match. And he would always be waiting with a soothing cup of tea, a comfy chair, and a kind pair of ears to talk to.

And the Masquerade drew closer and closer.

Eponine saw Marius and Raoul occasionally, and though their meetings weren't as awkward as they were that first time, Eponine still felt uncomfortable. She was sure that she was no longer in love with Marius, but she still got this feeling of regret and grief whenever she looked at him and whenever his face would light up at the sight of her, and whenever he would praise Cosette and repeat how wonderful it was that Eponine was alive.

He had been her first love, and he would always hold a special place in her heart. There was no denying that.

And then, there was Raoul.

Eponine wasn't sure where she stood with the young Vicomte. They were friendly to each other, and Raoul often apologized for leaving her to the Phantom's mercy when he had her go on stage instead of Christine, but there was this . . . tension, between them. Not the sexual kind, but more like something akin to distrust. Eponine had mentioned lessons, and she was sure that had struck a chord with Raoul. He may not know that she was learning from Erik, but he suspected something. He might not have known what it was he suspected, but Eponine was sure that he was suspicious. And Eponine had to be careful not to let anything else that might hint to Erik's whereabouts, or even that he lived.

Yes, Raoul would become a problem if Eponine wasn't careful, and she didn't want Raoul to become a problem.

Madame Giry was acting odd as well. Eponine had this feeling that she was just as suspicious as Raoul, and Eponine didn't know why. Did she know as much of the Phantom, of Erik, as Raoul did? Erik never did say the name of the ballerina whom had saved him from the gypsies . . . could it have been Madame Giry? That would explain much. Eponine would have to ask Erik about that later . . . .

Erik. Eponine's heart softened at just the thought of him. Never before had she had a friend as close as him. Not even Marius, or any of the Les Amis ABC were even close to how wonderful a friend Erik was. Eponine had fun when she was around him. His lessons were her favorite part of the day. She enjoyed going to them not because she enjoyed singing – though it was starting to grow on her – but because she enjoyed spending time with Erik. He made her happy.

Maybe that was why Eponine no longer loved Marius. There was another who genuinely cared for her now, another true friend. She no longer solely depended on Marius for companionship, now that Erik was in her life. And for that, Eponine would be eternally grateful to Erik. Marius brought her nothing but pain. But Erik, he brought joy into her life.

Eponine couldn't help but admire the irony of the situation – before, she had tried to forget Marius by being enemies with Erik, but that had proved disastrous. And now that she was friends with Erik, Eponine couldn't care less about Marius.

How funny the world was, sometimes.

"'Ponine, are you alright?" Meg asked. They had braked for lunch, and Eponine had been silent in thought for a while.

"Hm? Oh, yes. I was just thinkin'," Eponine said, smiling at the ballerina.

"About what?" Meg asked.

Eponine shrugged. "Nothin' much," she answered vaguely.

"Oh please, I'd know that faraway look anywhere! You've got a young man on your mind, don't you 'Ponine?" one of the dancers asked playfully.

Eponine smiled. "Not like that," she said.

"Oh, 'Ponine, who is it?" Meg asked excitedly.

Eponine shook her head. "No one, Meg,"

"She never has told us where she's staying. Perhaps a . . . special friend is giving you housing?" the dancer asked.

Eponine laughed. "No, Nadir's like a father to me," she said.

"Ooh, Nadir. Sounds exotic," the dancer commented, grinning.

Eponine just rolled her eyes.

"What is he? Arabian? Egyptian?"

"Persian," Eponine said, picking up her plate.

"Where are you going?" Meg asked.

"I 'ave re'earsal to go to, and I don't think your mother will take gossipin' as an excuse for tardiness," Eponine said dryly before taking her plate to the kitchens and going back to the theatre.

"Were the girls giving you trouble again?" Madame Giry asked when she saw the exhasperated look on Eponine's face.

She just rolled her eyes. "They think I'm 'avin' an affair with my 'ouser," she said, putting her foot up on the bar and stretching.

"Who has been giving you housing, Eponine? I don't think I've ever heard you mention him before," Madame Giry said, adjusting Eponine's position.

The street girl shrugged. "'e's just never come up,"

"Does he not like you talking about him? Other leg," Madame Giry said, Eponine doing as told.

Eponine shook her head. "No, Nadir doesn't mind if I speak of 'im –"

"Nadir?" Madame Giry asked, turning to face Eponine suddenly.

_Merde, she __**was**__ the ballerina who helped Erik escape, _Eponine thought.

Keeping her face neutral, Eponine nodded. "Yes, Nadir. Do you know 'im?" Eponine asked.

"Of him," Madame Giry said.

"I didn't know 'e 'ad a reputation," Eponine commented, trying to keep her voice light.

"Only to those who are familiar with one of his friends," Madame Giry said.

"Oh? Who's that? Maybe Nadir's spoken of 'im," Eponine said, taking her foot and lifting it so her leg was stretched out above her head.

"I doubt so. This is a very . . . secretive, friend," Madame Giry said carefully.

Eponine rolled her eyes. "All these secrets. Why can't things be simple just for once?" she asked.

"Things are never simple, Eponine. Now, go over the steps I showed you yesterday," Madame Giry commanded.

Eponine nodded, and began to dance to Madame Giry's clapping.

* * *

Sorry for the shortness of the chapter, but I really couldn't think of where to go from there without starting a new chapter, so . . . *shrugs* Oh well. Next chapter will be better, that I promise!

~FantasticMisticalWonder (FMW/Wonder)


	19. Belle

Disclaimer: When all you've got is nothing, there's a lot to go around!

* * *

When Eponine arrived for her lessons that morning, it was a Friday. The Masquerade was to be that night. She was a bundle of nerves, even hours before when she arrived at the underground lake. And she had every right to be. This would be her first performance in front of an audience as Esmeralda, as anyone of notice at the Opera House. Before she was just a chorus girl, now she was the star!

"Nervous?" Erik asked as Eponine stepped into the boat.

"Is it that obvious?" she asked.

"Only someone who knows you could tell," Erik assured her.

"Good. Now no one in the audience will be able to tell," she said.

"You're only dancing tonight, you shouldn't have much to worry about," Erik said.

"I know, but still," Eponine said.

"Do you want to practice it in the lair?" Erik asked.

"You mean, instead of the normal lessons?" Eponine asked.

"I think I can make an exception for today," Erik said, smiling.

"That would make things easier. 'avin' fead-back from someone other than Madame Giry, Monsieur Reyer, and the men playin' the principle parts," Eponine said.

Erik nodded as he pulled up to the shore, steppint out and holding out his hand to Eponine. Rolling her eyes, Eponine stood up and walked off the boat on her own. Erik took of his cloak with a twirl, and Eponine rolled her eyes again. "You got fleas in that thing?" she asked.

Erik ignored her and sat down at the organ.

"The song is Belle, correct?" Erik asked.

Eponine nodded as she removed her shoes. "Yes," she said.

Erik nodded, "Good," he said, taking out the music and starting it.

* * *

When Eponine arrived at rehearsal that day, she was immediately taken to the stage by Madame Giry to go over the dance with Boniface, Ansel, and Bastien. After rehearsing the scene multiple times, Eponine was dragged back into the costume room for a last minute fitting, and then to be dressed and made-up for Esmeralda. Once Eponine was totally in costume, it was nearing the time of the Masquerade. Eponine looked down at her bare feet and swayed a bit, the gold and green fabric swishing around her ankles. Eponine looked up at her reflection, and she frowned. Her hair was down, a little bit of the red locks pulled back and braided. But mostly it hung freely down her back. The dress was gold and green, short-sleeved and the skirt went down to her ankles, clearly no bloomers or underskirt of any kind worn beneath it. The dress was form-fitting without corset, and the neck was low enough that it couldn't be called modest, but it wasn't as scandalous as the dress she had to wear for Don Juan, either.

All in all, she looked like Esmeralda: young, innocent, beautiful, and even a little exotic with dark eye-makeup. There had been a debate over whether or not to make her wear a black wig to add to the gypsy look, but it was eventually decided to let her red hair show to add to her unique beauty and to help justify Frollo's belief that she was from Hell.

Sighing, Eponine turned around and was about to enter the hall for the Masquerade when Meg came in. The ballerina gasped when she saw Eponine.

"Oh, 'Ponine, you look lovely!" she cried.

Eponine smiled. "Thank you," she said.

"You have to come with me; I want you to see someone!" Meg said, pulling Eponine into the lobby and through the crowd. Meg pulled Eponine up to where Raoul was standing, and he turned to smile at them.

"Ah, sweetheart, I believe you have visitors," Raoul said, stepping aside to reveal Christine.

The soprano had changed since Eponine had last seen her. Her brown eyes seemed older and wiser, and her chocolate curls seemed more like ringlets now. Her face had lost some of its girlish qualities, and she looked more like a woman. She carried herself differently, and Eponine supposed that was due to the wedding ring around her finger and the tell-tale swell of her stomach. Christine had grown up, and judging from the glow of her face and her radiant smile, she was happy with her new life.

"Meg! Eponine!" Christine exclaimed, embracing the two girls.

"Christine!" Meg cried, embracing the soprano in return.

"'ow are you?" Eponine asked, returning the hug as well.

"I'm wonderful. And what about you? Eponine, you look beautiful. And considerably healthier than last time I saw you," Christine said, stepping back to look at the former street urchin.

"Regular eatin' and bathin' tends to do that to a person," Eponine replied.

Christine laughed. "Yes, I suppose it would. And Raoul tells me that you've replaced Carlotta. Congratulations! I always knew you had potential," Christine said, smiling.

"I may 'ave replaced, Carlotta, but I'll never replace you," Eponine said, smiling.

Christine just smiled in return.

"Eponine!" Madame Giry called, pulling Eponine to the side.

"What is it, Madame Giry?" Eponine asked.

"How familiar are you with God Help the Outcasts?" she asked.

_More than you'll ever know,_ Eponine thought. "Fairly so, why?" she asked.

"Monsieur Reyer wants you to sing it after Boniface, Ansel, and Bastien come out to sing Belle. Do you think you could do that?" she asked.

Eponine nodded. "Yes,"

"He decided at the last minute that people should hear you sing as well, the fool! I'm sorry to have to tell you this on such short notice," Madame Giry apologized.

"I'll be fine, Madame Giry," Eponine assured her.

Madame Giry nodded. "Good. Now, get out there and enjoy yourself for a while. I'll come and get you when it's time to perform," she said.

Eponine nodded and turned to walk back into the party, looking around for Meg and Christine. However, she was stopped when she felt someone tap her shoulder.

"Pardon me, but may I be graced with a dance?"

Eponine whipped around and stared incredulously at the man before her. "Erik? What are you doin' 'ere?" she asked.

Erik smirked. "What? I'm not allowed to come and see my student's first performance?"

"Are you the reason why Monsieur Reyer decided at the last minute to have me sing God 'elp the Outcasts?" she asked.

"I might have had something to do with it. Don't worry, I just started a few whisperings amongst the Masqueraders that it was such a shame they wouldn't be able to hear this fantastic new talented girl sing," he said, grinning.

"You're insufferable, you know that?" Eponine asked.

"You're too kind. Now, about that dance?" Erik asked.

Eponine rolled her eyes, but she put her hand in Erik's and let him lead her in dance. He wasn't wearing his Red Death costume – that would have been too easily recognizable – rather he was clad all in black, a mask covering the top half of his face and hair, and a sword sheathed at his waist. It appeared as though he wasn't wearing his wig, as the hair that was showing was light brown.

"I give up, what are you supposed to be?" Eponine asked.

Erik smirked. "Does the name S. Morgenstern ring any bells?"

Eponine shook her head.

"A novelist from a small island country called Florin. He wrote this marvelous fairytale known as the Princess Bride. In it there is a character known simply as the Man in Black,"

"'ow original," Eponine said dryly.

"It truly is a marvelous story. You should read it sometime; I think you'd like it,"

"What makes you think that? I'm really not one for sappy romances,"

"Oh, but there's so much more in it. Pirates, villainy, giants, swordfights, miracles, giant rats –"

"Giant rats?"

"Oh, yes, they're called ROUSes,"

"What does that stand for?"

"Rodents of Unusual Size,"

"Ah,"

"I'll actually let you in on a little secret,"

"Oh?"

"That was the most unnerving part, for me, at least,"

"Really? I would 'ave figured you were used to rats, what with livin' underground and such,"

"I can't stand the things, to tell you the truth,"

"Who would 'ave thought that the famous Phantom of the Opera was scared of rats?"

"You tell anyone about this and you will be hanging from the rafters like Buquet,"

"I'll keep that in mind,"

"Eponine!" Madame Giry called.

Eponine's eyes opened wide. "It's Madame Giry, she might recognize you!"

"How do you –"

"I'm not an idiot Erik, now go before she sees you!" Eponien said quickly, pushing Erik into the crowd.

"Eponine!" Madame Giry repeated, walking up to Eponine.

"Yes, Madame?" Eponine asked.

"It's almost time for you to go on. Get to your place behind the orchestra," Madame Giry said, ushering the girl to where Boniface, Ansel, and Bastien were already waiting. After Eponine had walked off, Madame Giry looked around, squinting. She could have sworn she saw Eponine dancing with someone . . . .

* * *

Erik looked up as the orchestra stopped playing the Masquerade music, and he smiled. Ah, almost time for Eponine to go on. Erik scowled when he saw Andre and Firmin walk up to where the performers would be.

"We would like to thank you all for coming here tonight!" Andre greeted.

"As you know, we will be putting on a new show in a few months, called _the Hunchback of Notre Dame_," Firmin said.

"We know that you are unfamiliar with the show, and we also know that you are skeptical as La Carlotta will not be performing. However, we have prepared a few songs from the show for you to watch. So please, enjoy!" Andre called, stepping back.

Monsieur Reyer started conducting the orchestra, and onstage stepped Eponine. Opposite her limped the man playing Quasimodo, dressed all in brown, something stuffed under the back of his shirt giving him the appearance of having a hunch, ghastly make-up disfiguring his face and a wig upon his head that made him look as if he had greasy red hair that spiked up unnaturally. All in all, he looked like Quasimodo. AS the music progressed, Eponine just walked forward, oblivious to Quasimodo staring at her.

"_Belle, is the only word I know that suits her well,"_ Quasimodo sang, staring at Eponine like she was a goddess.

"_When she dances oh, the stories she can tell_

_A free bird trying out her wings to fly away_

_And when I see her move I see the hell to pay,"_ he sang, turning away from her as Eponine began to dance.

"_She dances naked in my soul and sleep won't come,"_ he cried, bending over, a tortured expression on his face as he looked around to glance at the dancing Eponine before turning away again.

"_And it's no use to pray these prayers to Notre Dame_

_Tell, who'd be the first to raise his hand and throw a stone,"_ he sang, turning to look at Eponine, standing up a little straighter and staring at her, adoration on his face.

"_I'd hang him high and laugh to see him die alone_

_Oh Lucifer please let me go beyond god's law_

_And run my fingers through her hair Esmeralda,"_ Quasmodo sang, reaching out towards Eponine as she danced just out of his reach.

Erik smiled. He hadn't seen Eponine dance since she had first arrived at the Opera House months ago - and he had been too preoccupied with playing the music to watch her in the lair - and she had improved considerably since then. She was light on her feet, and quite agile as well. He supposed that she had running from the police to thank for that.

An older man walked onto the stage now, wearing the garb of a priest. Claude Frollo, the antagonist of the story. Frollo looked at Eponine with disgust.

"_Belle, there is a demon inside her who came from hell_

_And he turned my eyes from God, and oh, I fell_

_He put this heat inside me I'm ashamed to tell," _he sang, looking away from the dancing Eponine.

"_Without my God inside I'm just a burning shell_

_The sin of Eve she has in her I know so well,"_ Frollo declared, looking over at Eponine.

"_For want of her I know I'd give my soul to sell_

_Belle, this gypsy girl is there a soul beneath her skin_

_And does she bear the cross of all our human sin,"_ he sang, looking up at the ceiling as if in prayer.

"_Oh Notre-Dame please let me go beyond god's law_

_Open the door of love inside Esmeralda,"_ he sang, looking over at Eponine again, lust and want flashing across his face.

The next to walk onto the stage was the youngest of the men wearing a chain-mail shirt. Phoebus. The strapping young hero.

"_Belle, even though her eyes seem to lead us to hell_

_She may be more pure more pure than the words can tell," _Phoebus sang, watching Eponine's dance appreciatively. He began to circle her as she danced, admiring her from every point.

"_But when she dances feelings come no man can quell_

_Beneath her rainbow colored dress there burns the well_

_My promised one please let me one time be untrue,"_ he sang, looking off stage as if talking to another.

"_Before in front of God and man I marry you_

_Who'd be the man who'd turn from her to save his soul?"_ Phoebus sang, looking once more at Eponine.

"_To be with her I'd let the devil take me whole,"_ he glanced back over his shoulder.

"_Oh, Fleur-De-Lys I am a man who knows no love,"_ he looked back over at Eponine.

"_I go to open up the rose Esmeralda,"_ he sang, circling her again before walking behind Frollo as all three men stared at Eponine.

"_She dances naked in my soul and sleep won't come," _the all sang together.

"_And it's no use to pray these prayers to Notre Dame_

_Tell, who'd be the first to raise his hand and throw a stone_

_I'd hang him high and laugh to see him die alone_

_Oh Lucifer please let me go beyond God's law_

_And run my fingers through her hair Esmeralda,"_ they sang, Eponine's dancing slowing.

"_Esmeralda,"_ they sang out one last time before walking off, Monsieur Reyer immediately beginning the instrumental part before God Help the Outcasts. Eponine's dancing had completely ceased now, and she had her hands clasped in front of her. Every once in a while she would look down at her fingers and then at her surroundings. She paced around the stage as the instrumental part progressed, and as her cue neared, she stared long and hard down at her hands, biting her lip.

"_I don't know if you can hear me_

_Or if you're even there_

_I don't know if you would listen_

_To a gypsy's prayer_

_Yes I know I'm just an outcast_

_I shouldn't speak to you_

_Still I see your face and wonder_

_Were you once an outcast too?"_ Eponine sang, looking up, her eyes searching. She walked slowly across the stage, her eyes trained on the ceiling, and before she started singing again she once more lowered her eyes.

"_God help the outcasts_

_Hungry from birth_

_Show them the mercy_

_They don't find on Earth_

_God help my people_

_They look to you still_

_God help the outcasts_

_Or nobody will,"_ Eponine sang, looking up at the ceiling, a smile crossing her face as she shook her head.

"_Others ask for wealth_," she scoffed.

"_They ask for fame_

_They ask for glory to shine on their names_

_They ask for love_

_They can possess_

_They ask for God and his angels to bless them _

_I ask for nothing_

_I can get by,"_ Eponine sang, looking down.

"_But I know so many _

_Less lucky than I_

_Please help my people_

_The poor and downtrod_

_I thought we all were_

_The children of God,"_ she sang, looking up.

"_God help the outcasts_

_Children of God," _Eponine sang, her face raised for a moment before dropping it and looking back at her hands. Erik smiled. She had done wonderfully.

There was a pause after the music had stopped, and then the audience broke out into applause. Erik smiled. They loved her. He knew they would. The three men playing the leads stepped out and they bowed individually, letting Eponine curtsy last. The place of honor. Eponine was beaming, her face flushed with excitement. Of course. It was her first triumph as a singer, as a performer. She had every right to be proud of herself. Eponine stepped down, and she was immediately surrounded by Masqueraders, all congratulating her on her performance. Erik smiled and stepped back. He would wait for the people around her to lessen before going up to congratulate her himself.

"Pardon me, but do I know you?" a voice asked.

Erik froze. He knew that voice. It had haunted his dreams for years, taunting him and teasing him with false hopes.

Christine.

"No, I don't think you do," Erik responded, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. He noted the bump on her stomach. Married and expecting.

"Pardon my forwardness, but it's just that you look so familiar," Christine said.

"I think I would remember you, now if you don't mind," Erik said, walking away quickly before she recognized him. That was close. Too close.

Erik merged into the crowd and kept an eye on Eponine. It wasn't until the crowd began to lose interest in her and begin their merry-making again that Erik realized something. Something extraordinary.

He was no longer in love with Christine.

"'ow did I do?" Eponine asked, bounding up to Erik.

The ex-Phantom shook himself out of his thoughts and smiled at Eponine. "You were wonderful. Were Carlotta here she would be green with envy,"

Eponine beamed at him. This was probably the first triumph she had had in a long time. She had always been low, poorer than dirt, second best to a prettier and richer girl. But now she was being recognized for something other than her poverty. People weren't looking at her with distaste. Of course she would be excited and proud. This was huge for her.

"I have never been so proud of anyone before," Erik said, his eyes softening.

Eponine stared up at him, her eyes wide. He could have sworn he saw her eyes glisten a little, but she blinked and it was gone.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Erik smiled down at her, and then straightened. Eponine raised an eyebrow.

"I do believe our last dance was interrupted,"

"Yes, it was,"

"That simply won't do, I'm afraid,"

"It won't?"

"No. In fact, I don't think it should even count as a dance,"

"Is that so?"

"Yes. I must simply ask you for another,"

"If I must,"

"Consider it as tuition payment,"

"So now your lessons cost something?"

"Are you implying that they're not worth much?"

"No, I just thought that me keepin' you from killin' yourself was payment enough,"

"I'm afraid not, dear 'Ponine,"

"Very well then. Lead the way,"

"With pleasure,"

From the sidelines, Madame Giry watched the Masquerade with a smile. It was good to see that everyone had healed from what had happened with the Phantom. Even Christine seemed better. As did Eponine. The girl had been abducted by him, after all. Madame Giry still felt a bit of pity for the Phantom, but the Vicomte had been right – his genius had turned into madness.

Turning, Madame Giry saw Eponine dancing with a man, a smile on her face and on the face of the man. They were both talking and laughing, and both seemed to be enjoying themselves. Madame Giry smiled. There was a sort of glow around Eponine. She was genuinely happy. Madame Giry had never seen Eponine in such a good mood. And the man seemed to have a similar glow around him. Perhaps the ballerinas were right in their assumption that there was a young man in Eponine's life. Though come to think of it, the man didn't look that young. He could very well be twice Eponine's age. But as long as they were both happy . . . .

Madame Giry stopped. During their dancing, Eponine and the stranger had passed through a shadow of a collumn. And as they passed, Madame Giry had seen the man's eyes suddenly spring to life. They had glowed. And Madame Giry only knew one person who's eyes glowed in the dark . . .

Madame Giry's eyes opened wide. It was him. He was here. Madame Giry put a hand out on a pillar to steady herself. What – she thought he had died! Or that he had just left himself to rot under the remains of the Opera House . . . she had considered going down to check up on him, but she feared that he would still be bitter about her revealing his secrets to the Vicomte. She had avoided the old Opera House, and told Meg to do the same – though her daughter was unaware of Madame Giry's harboring the Phantom. Madame Giry now cursed her stupidity. Of course he would still be alive. But what was he doing with Eponine . . .

Madame Giry's eyes opened wider. He was her teacher! Oh, merde, that's how she got so good! She was being taught by the best!

Madame Giry frowned. But why? Eponine and the Phantom weren't exactly on the best of terms. There was no reason why Eponine would willingly seek him out. Or why he would willingly take her on as his pupil. And then there was the obvious pleasure they were getting from one anothers company . . .

Madame Giry shook her head. She needed answers, and she would have to get them. Soon.

* * *

What's this I see? Could it be . . . PLOT DEVELOPEMENT? :O

And TWO updates in ONE day? Dear Lord, WHAT is this world coming to?

~FantasticMisticalWonder (FMW/Wonder)


	20. No One But Her

Disclaimer: Why do I even bother with this anymore . . . we're at TWENTY CHAPTERS (little party) and you guys KNOW that I own ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!

* * *

Nadir's head shot up when he heard a knocking on his door. That was strange . . . rehearsals should be over, but Eponine should still be at her lessons with Erik for the next few hours.

Cautiously, Nadir crept up to the door. "I'm not home! Please leave a message under the door," he called.

"Oh, don't try that nonsense with me," a voice said.

Nadir's ears perked up. That was not Eponine. Nor was it Erik.

Nadir cracked the door open and peered out, seeing woman in her late forties, her arms crossed and an annoyed look on her face, her foot tapping on the ground.

"Hello?" Nadir called.

"Hello," the woman replied.

"Who is this?" Nadir asked.

"Madame Giry. I am the ballet mistress at the Opera Hosue,"

Nadir's eyes opened wide. Eponine had expressed her suspicions that Madame Giry had concealed Erik in the Opera House. And Eponine had also told Nadir about Erik's surprise appearance at the Masquerade.

"Umm . . . I don't know anyone by that name! Wrong house!" Nadir said, moving to close the door, but a dainty foot being put between the door and the frame prevented him from doing so.

"Are you Nadir Kahn?" Madame Giry asked.

Nadir looked at her hesitantly. "Who wants to know?"

"I told you. Now will you let me in?" she asked pointedly.

Nadir hesitated, and he opened the door wider, letting the ballet mistress walk in. Her face was stern, her brown hair pulled back into a braid hanging down her back. Dressed in all black, she had a very no-nonsense air about her. Nadir closed the door behind her, and he led her into the drawing room.

"Can I get you a cup of tea?" he asked.

"That would be lovely," Madame Giry said, sitting down.

Nadir nodded and walked into the kitchen. The water was still hot from the tea he had just made himself, so he used that to make Madame Giry's cup. Cautiously, Nadir brought the cup out to Madame Giry, and he gently set it down in front of her.

"And to what do I owe this honor?" Nadir asked, sitting down across from Madame Giry.

"I understand you have been housing Eponine for these past months," Madame Giry said.

Nadir nodded. "Yes,"

"How did you two come to that arrangement?" Madame Giry asked, taking a sip of her tea.

"She was brought to me to be nursed back to health. It just didn't seem right to turn her out after she had healed," Nadir said.

"Ah, so you are the doctor who cared for her,"

"Yes,"

"Could you tell me who brought her to you?"

"An old friend of mine who was at the barricades. He saw she was dying and smuggled her out and to me," Nadir said.

"And what is the name of this friend?" Madame Giry asked.

She was persistent, Nadir had to give her that.

"He'd rather I kept him anonymous," Nadir said.

"I know it was Erik, don't try and lie to me," Madame Giry said.

Nadir remained silent.

"He spoke of you a few times, and I recognized the name when Eponine told me who was giving her shelter," Madame Giry said, sitting forward.

"Now I want you to tell me how Eponine came to be Erik's student," Madame Giry said sternly.

Nadir sighed. She was _really_ persistent.

"Do you mean Erik any harm?" Nadir asked.

Madame Giry bristled. "I cared for him for nearly all of his life after escaping the gypsies –"

"Yes, but do you mean him harm? Those gypsies 'cared' for him in a sense, and they weren't exactly keeping his best interests in mind," Nadir said seriously.

Madame Giry's eyes softened a little. "No. I may have told the Vicomte about his past, but it was in an effort to show the Vicomte what Erik had been through, why he was acting in the way he was. Obviously it failed," Madame Giry said.

Nadir nodded. "Good. Then perhaps I should start at the beginning. Or rather, the beginning as I know it to be,"

Madame Giry nodded and sat back, sipping at her tea and looking at Nadir expectantly.

* * *

Down in Erik's lair, laughter could be heard. Not malicious or insane laughter, but the joyful kind, like the laugh shared between two friends and a joke.

"You _wrote_ this?" Eponine laughed, looking down at the sheet music in her hand.

"I think I may have been drunk, but yes," Erik said, laughing as well.

"Well, I'm impressed. Normally I'd expect a person to not be able to write anything when inebriated, but you proved me wrong," Eponine said, wiping a tear from her eye.

Erik nodded and smiled almost fondly down at the piece. "I had such a fun time writing this,"

"You were drunk, you always 'ave a fun time when you're drunk. Until you get to the 'angover part, then that's just rotten," Eponine said.

"Ah yes, that part I didn't enjoy as much,"

"When _did_ this 'appen?"

"I believe I was attempting to drown my sorrows in hard alcohol sometime after I let you go, but before you interrupted my suicide,"

"Ah, your personal depression,"

"Yes, that,"

"Surprising at 'ow 'appy the song is,"

"You tend to be in high spirits when you're drunk,"

"Not necessarily. When my parents still owned their inn, there were a few drunks who spent their whole time crying into their tankards,"

"Really,"

"Yep,"

"Interesting,"

Eponine looked at the music for a moment. "I'm amusing that you showed this to me for laughs, not that you want me to sing this,"

"Do you want to sing it?"

"Not particularly,"

"Then I won't make you,"

Eponine nodded.

"However, I do have another song for you to sing,"

Eponine rolled her eyes. "I should 'ave known,"

Erik lightly smacked her on the arm with a stack of sheet music, and Eponine opened her eyes wide in mock shock and hurt.

"That 'urt," she said in false pain.

"You poor thing," Erik said dryly, shuffling the paper on the organ.

"I'm goin' to 'ave a bruise there for sure,"

"Dearie me, whatever shall you do?"

"It'll be there for _weeks_,"

"Do you want me to kiss it to make it better?"

Eponine's eyes met Eriks, and their facades dropped as they burst into laughter.

"You sure you're not drunk?" Eponine asked.

"I am one hundred percent sober, I assure you," Erik said, smiling as he adjusted the paper on the organ.

Eponine looked at the music over Erik's shoulder. "This the song?" she asked.

"No, it's the will I wrote when I was contemplating suicide," Erik said sarcastically.

Eponine stared at Erik. "I'm a bad influence on you,"

"What makes you say that?"

"You just talked back to me! Sarcastically!"

"So I'm not allowed say something witty every once in a while?"

"I'm so proud of you!"

"I don't see why it's so surprising,"

"You're always so stiff and proper, I didn't even think sarcasm was in your vocabulary!"

"Hearing someone speak it enough is as good as a dictionary,"

"Could you sing the song now?"

"I'd sing that drunk song if you wanted me to right now!"

"I don't think that would be necessary,"

"If you say so,"

"Just sing, Eponine,"

"As you wish,"

Erik smirked. "You've been reading Princess Bride, haven't you?"

"What makes you say that, Opera Boy?"

"Just a hunch. Now, if you please –"

"I know I know, time to sing," Eponine said, waiting for Erik to finish the short instrumental part before singing.

"_Bed! Bed! _

_I couldn't go to bed! _

_My head's too light to try to set it down! _

_Sleep! Sleep! _

_I couldn't sleep tonight. _

_Not for all the jewels in the crown!"_ Eponine sang, rubbing her throat. This song was in a higher register than she was used to, despite her exercises with Erik.

"_I could have danced all night! _

_I could have danced all night! _

_And still have begged for more,_

_I could have spread my wings _

_And done a thousand things _

_I've never done before_

_I'll never know what made it so exciting;_

_Why all at once my heart took flight. _

_I only know when he _

_Began to dance with me _

_I could have danced, danced, danced _

_All night,"_ Eponine finished, looking at Erik.

"Shorter than normal," she commented.

"I originally made it longer, but it just became redundant," Erik said.

"Short and sweet, I like it," she said, nodding her head in approval.

"Yes, I thought you'd like that part," Erik said, smirking.

"I did. Should make it easier to work on, too," Eponine reasoned.

Erik nodded and shuffled the papers. "Yes, my thoughts exactly. Now, I noticed that you sounded a little forced here . . ."

When it came time for Eponine to leave, Erik rowed her back to the tunnel, the street girl waving at him before walking off. Once she was out of sight, Erik began rowing back to the lair, humming along as he did.

"_I only know when she_

_Began to dance with me_

_I could have danced, danced, danced_

_All night,"_ Erik sang.

* * *

Eponine walked back home humming, in the usual good mood that she was in after Erik's lessons. She just always felt happier after spending that time with him. In fact, Eponine mused, this was the happiest she had been in years. Even as a child living in wealth she was sure that she had never felt this kind of joy and completeness. Erik was the best friend that Eponine had had . . . ever. Marius, Enjolras, Grantaire, none of them could compare to the kind of companionship, the kind of bond she had with Erik. Eponine supposed that was due to how they could relate – both having felt outcast, and knowing the heartbreak of loving someone who did not love you – but also just the time they got to know each other. Eponine _liked_ learning more about Erik, and Eponine was fairly certain that Erik liked learning more about her in turn. He certainly seemed to enjoy hearing about Eponine's escapades when she was a street rat.

Eponine came up to Nadir's house, and she opened the door with her key, about to announce that she was back, but stopping when she heard voices. One was clearly Nadir's – Eponine could tell by the accent – but the other . . . it seemed familiar, but Eponine couldn't hear it clearly enough to tell. Quietly, she inched forward, and she strained her ears to hear the conversation.

"I never thought I would live to see the day that Erik would have a friend. A genuine friend," the unknown voice said.

"It truly is remarkable. Eponine has changed Erik in a way that will mark him forever. I haven't seen him much – he still keeps mostly to himself – but Eponine tells me about their lessons, and lately, Erik's been _laughing_,"

"_Laughing_?"

"Yes, and making jokes,"

"Mon dieu . . ."

"I know! I never thought the day would come when Erik would be laughing and cracking jokes. Non morbid ones, too,"

"Eponine must be a miracle worker . . ."

"And he's changed her, too! There was this sort of hopelessness about her, like she didn't know quite what to do with herself now that her friends were dead and that Marius Pontmercy would never love her. But now, she eagerly gets up every morning. It's like she suddenly has a purpose for living,"

"Eponine's purpose is to be Erik's purpose,"

"It's rather sweet when you think about it,"

"Yes, I suppose it is. I'm just happy he hasn't threatened her into taking these lessons,"

"Eponine wouldn't be nearly as excited about going to those lessons if he was,"

The stranger sighed, and Eponine heard the clinking of china. They must have been drinking tea.

"Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Monsieur Kahn, but I'm afraid I must be off. The ballet girls tend to get into trouble if I'm not there to make sure they don't have rolls in the hay with the stage hands –"

"Madame Giry?" Eponine blurted, clapping her hands over her mouth.

There was a pause, and Madame Giry came out of the parlor, Nadir following her.

"Hello, Eponine," Madame Giry said.

"What are you doing here?" Eponine asked.

"Antoinette was inquiring after your well-being, Eponine. She saw you and Erik at the Masquerade, and she grew worried that he was threatening you," Nadir said.

"I know now that is not the case," Madame Giry assured her.

Eponine nodded.

Madame Giry sighed. "Well, I suppose I should be going. Good day Nadir, Eponine," Madame Giry said, nodding her head to the two before exiting the house.

"So, how were your lessons?" Nadir asked.

"I – I need to go tell Erik," Eponine said, turning around and hurrying to the door.

"Tell him what?" Nadir called.

"That Madame Giry knows!" Eponine replied.

"Eponine, she won't tell anyone!" Nadir assured her.

"I know! I just need to tell him!" Eponine called back before running out the door and to the remains of the Opera House.

Eponine arrived soon at the remains, and she dug around the rubble for the entrance – she always hid it effectively before leaving – before jumping into the hole and into the dark passages. Squinting in the dark, she ran down the tunnel, her hands out in front of her to stop any obstacles. She just stopped herself from falling into the lake, and she squinted out into the mist. Erik had mentioned a spare gondola . . . but she didn't see anything of the sort. Eponine narrowed her eyes and threw off her cloak, jumping into the lake.

She made it to the gate shortly, and she peered through the bars.

"Erik!" Eponine called.

The Phantom's head appeared over a stack of papers, and he seemed surprised and delighted to see her.

"Eponine? What are you doing here?" Erik asked.

"I have something important to tell you!" she said.

Erik walked over to the lever and pulled it, allowing the gate to be raised.

"Honestly, you could have just called for me. Mon dieu, you're soaking wet," Erik chided her, taking his cape and wrapping it around her.

"I'm fine," Eponine said, though she tightened the cape gratefully.

"So, what is this important information you just had to swim through the lake to tell me?" Erik asked.

"It's Madame Giry. She knows," Eponine said.

Erik stopped and stared at her. "What?"

"I went 'ome and found Nadir and 'er talking. About us. She knows. I don't think she'll tell, but I thought you should know," Eponine said.

Erik nodded. "Thank you for telling me," he said before holding out his arm.

"Eponine, the last time you told me your suspicions of someone knowing, I had a dream that they found me and killed me. Would you do the honors of pinching me so I can be sure that this is not a dream?"

Eponine rolled her eyes and punched him in the arm.

"Ow! I said a pinch!"

"Well, now you know for sure that you're awake," Eponine said, suddenly throwing her arms around Erik and burying her face in his shoulder.

"I was so worried back there that Madame Giry was goin' to tell the police or somethin' that you were alive. Oh, mon dieu, I thought I was goin' to 'ave to spring you out of jail or 'ave you fake your own death and smuggled out of France,"

Erik stood there, stiff as a board, and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around Eponine and hugged her back.

"Fake my death and smuggled out of France? You've put some thought into this, haven't you?" Erik asked after he remembered how to talk. She was hugging him. Hugging him. No one had ever hugged him before.

"I learned to always 'ave a backup plan," Eponine said, her voice muffled due to her face still being pressed against Erik's shoulder.

"Ah, smart thinking," Erik said, his throat feeling a little dry.

Eponine looked up at him and smirked. "You getting' uncomfortable?" she asked.

"Just a little," he said.

Eponine rolled her eyes and unwrapped her arms. "Really, you're actin' like you've never been 'ugged before . . . ." Eponine stopped suddenly, and she stared at Erik, realization dawning in her eyes.

"You – you've never been 'ugged, 'ave you?" she asked.

Erik shook his head.

Eponine frowned, and before Erik knew what she was doing, her hand had grasped the edge of his mask. Like lightening, Erik brought his hand up and gripped Eponine's wrist, preventing her from removing it.

"Erik –"

"No, you may not remember what lies beneath this, and I don't want you to. Your face the first day you saw it – it still haunts my dreams, 'Ponine. I don't want to see that look on your face again. Please," Erik said.

Eponine's frown deepened. "Erik, do you trust me?"

"I –"

"_Do you trust me_?"

Erik looked into her determined bright green eyes, and he sighed. "Yes," he consented.

"Then let me see you. Erik, I want to show you that even with your face, I still – I still care for you," Eponine said.

Erik looked down at her, and he slowly released her wrist. Giving Erik an encouraging smile, Eponine removed the mask and Erik closed his eyes, not wanting to see her reaction.

Eponine was silent for a moment, and Erik felt his heart begin to break. Silence was worse than screaming. At least then he knew what was going through their head. But Eponine . . . she was just so _silent_.

Then Erik felt a change, something warm hovering over the ruined side of his face. Opening his eyes, he saw Eponine standing considerably closer than she had been, her hand hovering over his disfigurement, her eyes asking permission.

Slowly, Erik nodded, and Eponine gently pressed her fingers on the flesh. Erik closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Well . . . this was unexpected. Eponine's fingers roamed over the ruined half of his face, and he could feel each callous. Her fingers explored each bump, each wrinkle, each piece of flesh. They traced the rim of the deepest cave on the center of his cheek, and Erik could feel the uncertainty in her fingers.

"It's alright, it doesn't hurt," he said.

Eponine's fingers then explored the angry red flesh of the cave, and Erik sighed. Even the gypsies had been afraid to touch his disfigurement, no one had ever laid a finger on it, much less caressed it the way Eponine was. He found himself leaning into her gentle touch, but he caught himself and stopped.

Too soon, Eponine removed her hand, and Erik opened his eyes.

"So, what is your prognosis?" Erik asked.

Eponine bit her lip and looked at Erik critically. "Meh, it's not that bad,"

Erik raised an eyebrow. "Not that bad?" he repeated, trying to keep himself from laughing.

"Once you get used to it, at least," she said, reaching up and touching his face again.

"If only people gave you the chance . . ." she murmured before shrugging and flashing him a smile.

"Well, I don't think it's too bad. Not anymore," she said.

"You're just saying that so I don't feel like a repulsive monster," Erik said in mock self-pity.

Eponine stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him in the very cave she had been exploring previously, and Erik felt a shock go through him.

"There, see? No repulsion whatsoever," Eponine said, flashing him a grin.

Erik blinked, still shell shocked, and he glared down at Eponine, growling. "You are a little minx, Eponine Thenardier,"

Eponine just flashed another grin. "Aww, I bet you say that to all of your students," she joked, lightly slapping him on the arm.

"Try not to get yourself killed!" she cried, running towards the lake.

"Wait! Do you want me to row you back across?" Erik asked.

"Nadir won't mind if I come 'ome soakin' wet!" Eponine cried, jumping into the lake.

Erik blinked, and slowly a smile lit up his face. Erik shook his head and picked up his mask from the floor. Carefully, he put his hand to his cheek, and he felt inside the cave. He could still feel the moisture from her lips there.

Erik closed his eyes and sighed. Never before had he felt anything so . . . so _intimate_ as that. And he felt like that moment was something big for him and 'Ponine. It was a milestone in their relationship. Of that he was sure.

Sighing, Erik sat down at his organ and thoughtfully pressed a rose to his lips. Then sighing once more, he put his pen to paper.

"_Shamed into solitude _

_Shunned by the multitude _

_I learned to listen _

_In my dark, my heart heard music._

_I longed to teach the world _

_Rise up and reach the world _

_No one would listen _

_I alone could hear the music _

_Then at last, a voice in the gloom _

_Seemed to cry 'I hear you; _

_I hear your fears, _

_Your torment and your tears.'_

_She saw my loneliness _

_Shared in my emptiness _

_No one would listen _

_No one but her _

_Heard as the outcast hears _

_No one would listen _

_No one but her _

_Heard as the outcast hears,"_

* * *

Yaaaay! Character/relationship development plus minor plot development! XD Ah, I just love these two.

Songs include I Could Have Danced All Night from My Fair Lady and No One Would Listen (a deleted song from the 2004 Phantom Philm)

~FantasticMisticalWonder (FMW/Wonder)


	21. Topsy Turvy!

DISCLAIMER: Nothing: I own it.

* * *

Eponine shivered offstage, partially from excitement, and partially from nerves.

"Break a leg, 'Ponine!" Meg called, dancing off to her place.

"You too!" Eponine replied.

One of the costume ladies came running up to Eponine and quickly began fixing her make-up and hair.

"That's enough! Anymore and the audience won't be able to see her face!" Madame Giry cried, walking up to Eponine and looking her in the eyes.

"Now, do you remember all of your dances?"

"Yes, Madame Giry,"

"Your songs and cues?"

"Yes,"

"Good girl," Madame Giry said before looking up at the rafters.

"Is he –"

"I don't know. 'e came to my audition and the masquerade, so 'e might be 'ere. Probably lurkin' someplace," Eponine said.

Madame Giry nodded and patted Eponine on the shoulder. "Yes, well, do your best out there. Make him proud,"

Eponine nodded and smiled. "I will,"

Madame Giry nodded and straightened up as the curtain opened, Francois already onstage with his little puppet theatre.

Eponine smiled and looked out at the audience, though she remained unseen behind the curtain. If Erik was out there, she couldn't see him. But she hoped that he was.

* * *

Erik would have preferred to have been sitting in a box seat, but the balcony would suffice. He looked down at the stage as the curtain opened, and smiled. Ah, Clopin. One of his favorite characters. The narrator of the opera. Erik watched as Clopin told the story of how Quasimodo came into Frollo's care, and then finished the opening number. The audience clapped, and Erik smiled in triumph. So far, so good.

Erik found himself mostly smiling and nodding in approval as the opera progressed. All of the performers were fairly strong in their singing and acting ability, and Erik approved of their choices as well. Frollo was more complicated than just a villain, Phoebus was charming yet arrogant, and Quasimodo was wretched without being pathetic. So far, Eponine's appearances as Esmeralda had been fleeting, but Erik knew she would be having her "big dance" during the Festival of Fools, which would be coming up soon. Erik sat back in satisfaction as Quasimodo snuck out of his tower to go to the Festival. Ah, here it was.

"_Come one, come all!"_ the crowd sang.

"_Leave your loops and milking stools_

_Coop the hens and pen the mules_

_Come one, come all!_

_Close the churches and the schools_

_It's the day for breaking rules_

_Come and join the feast of –"_

"_Fools!"_ Clopin shouted, jumping up from amongst the people, confetti flying everywhere. Clopin laughed and addressed both the audience and the crowd onstage.

"_Once a year we throw a party here in town_

_Once a year we turn all Paris upside down_

_Ev'ry man's a king and ev'ry king's a clown_

_Once again it's Topsy Turvy Day,"_ Clopin sang, grabbing random women from the crowd and dancing with them before prancing around the stage. Erik smiled. Clopin almost made Erik _like_ gypsies.

"_It's the day the devil in us gets released_

_It's the day we mock the prig and shock the priest_

_Ev'rything is topsy turvy at the Feast of Fools!"_ Clopin sang as the crowd parted, revealing gypsies in bizarre and almost gruesomely comedic costumes.

"_Topsy turvy!"_

"_Ev'rything is upsy daysy!"_ Clopin laughed.

"_Topsy turvy!"_

"_Ev'ryone is acting crazy_

_Dross is gold and weeds are a bouquet_

_That's the way on Topsy Turvy Day,"_ Clopin sang, skipping off to allow more colorfully dressed gypsies to parade in their costumes.

"_Topsy Turvy!"_

"_Beat the drums and blow the trumpets!"_ Clopin sang with the crowd.

"_Topsy Turvy!"_

"_Join the bums and thieves and strumpets_

_Streaming in from Chartres to Calais,"_ Clopin sang with the crowd before once more singing alone.

"_Scurvy knaves are extra scurvy_

_On the sixth of 'Januervy',"_ Clopin laughed, the crowd joining in again.

"_All because it's Topy Turvy Day!"_

"_Come one, come all!" _Clopin sang solo again.

"_Hurry, hurry, here's your chance_

_See the myst'ry and romance, _

_Come one, come all_

_See the finest girl in France, _

_Make an entrance to entrance,"_ Clopin sang, elbowing one of the men in the crowd before winking at the audience. Erik sat up straighter. He knew this cue . . .

"_Dance la Esmeralda_

_Dance!"_ Clopin commanded, throwing some substance onto the stage, creating a cloud of purple smoke. The audience gasped, and out of the smoke came Eponine, already in dance.

Erik nearly fell out of his chair.

Eponine was wearing a red silk dress that clung to her torso and billowed out around her legs. Her hair had been piled in part on top of her head, a few locks straying down her neck. She had a golden tiara on her head, and Erik wondered how it stayed on her head – what with all of the moving she was doing onstage. Speaking of which – Erik found her dance to be a little too provocative for his tastes. Yes, Esmeralda was supposed to be sexually appealing, but she also was sixteen and still fairly naïve and innocent – which made the lust of Frollo and Phoebus even more sinful. An unknowing temptress; _that_ was who Esmeralda was supposed to be.

And it seemed that she was doing an excellent job at the tempting. Quasimodo, Phoebus, and Frollo alike were staring at Eponine as she danced, though each with their own version of their lust – or in Quasimodo's case, awe. And it was then that Erik noticed that it was merely the dance that was provocative, not Eponine – or Esmeralda – herself. There was just a hint of discomfort in the way she moved, like she knew this wasn't who she was. Men in the crowd reached out to touch her, but she shied away from them. It was subtle, but visible. And Erik loosened his shoulders and sighed. He had been afraid that those damn fools Andre and Firmin had turned Esmeralda into slut.

Erik watched the rest of the opera in satisfaction. Eponine was well-received by the audience – better than well-received – and when it came time for the curtain call, she received a standing ovation. Erik himself stood up and clapped – paying no heed to keeping himself concealed.

And he could have sworn that Eponine looked straight at him as she bowed.

* * *

Eponine felt exhilarated. This was a thousand times grander than when she had done the preview at the masquerade! Madame Giry shielded Eponine from the opera goers trying to talk to her or hand her flowers, and eventually Eponine had been led safely to her – previously Carlotta's – dressing room.

"If anyone steps within ten feet of this door I will throw them in the river!" Madame Giry warned before closing the door.

"Mon dieu . . ." Madame Giry muttered under her breath before turning to face Eponine, a smile on her face.

"Well done, my dear. You were wonderful," Madame Giry said, gently putting a hand on Eponine's shoulder.

"I'm sure he was very proud of you," Madame Giry added.

"In fact, I _know_ that he was proud of you," she said, pulling out a rose with a black ribbon tied to the stem.

"Amongst the chaos I found this suddenly pressed into my hand. I can only imagine who it was for," she said, smiling as she handed the gift to Eponine.

The street waif took the rose with a kind of reverence, and she gently fingered the ribbon, a smile on her face.

"Thank you, Madame Giry. Not just for this, but for everything. Thank you for being so kind to me, and for giving me a chance, and for rescuing him from the gypsies. God knows what would have happened had you not," Eponine said, looking Madame Giry in the eye.

Madame Giry blinked, and she nodded, giving Eponine a small smile before exiting the dressing room.

"I thought I told you to stay ten feet away!" she scolded before closing the door behind her.

Eponine chuckled and looked back down at the rose, gently stroking the ribbon before putting it down on her dressing table. She gently let her hair down and took off her ankle bracelets. She made to start unlacing her dress when she suddenly stopped, smirking.

"I know you're there," she called out.

There was silence, and then a panel in the wall opposite Eponine's vanity mirror opened, Erik stepping out.

"Did you just make that passage there, or was it 'ere before?" Eponine asked, crossing her arms.

"This is an old building, 'Ponine. They may have remodeled most of it, but many of the old passages are still intact," Erik said, closing the panel behind him.

Eponine just raised an eyebrow and shook her head. "Old 'abits die 'ard, I guess,"

"You're one to talk," Erik scoffed.

"Only my personality's stayed the same: I don't go around stealin' bread and gettin' in trouble with the police," Eponine said.

"And this is the first time I've used any sort of secret passage to spy in a long time," Erik retorted.

"You're just lucky I realized you were 'ere before I was completely undressed," Eponine said.

"There's no one-way mirror, 'Ponine. I doubt I would have seen anything," Erik said, rolling his eyes.

Eponine just sniffed. "Is there any particular reason you came 'ere? I mean, I enjoy your company and all, but –"

"I just came to congratulate you. You truly were magnificent," Erik said, smiling.

Eponine smiled back. "Thank you. I got your rose," Eponine said, gesturing towards the flower on her table.

"Yes, I saw Madame Giry give it to you. I never told you that it was her who rescued me, how did you –"

"Please, I'm not an idiot: she obviously knew more than she was lettin' on, and you said a ballerina freed you," Eponine said, crossing her arms.

"You're a little too clever for your own good sometimes, you know that?" Erik asked.

Eponine flashed him a grin.

Someone suddenly knocked on the door, and both Eponine and Erik jumped.

"Hide," Eponine hissed.

"Where?" Erik asked.

Eponine looked around frantically and then roughly pushed Erik behind the screen.

"Who's there?" Eponine called.

"It's Madame Giry, there's a Monsieur Marius here to see you," Madame Giry replied.

Eponine nodded, her heart pounding frantically. It shouldn't be too hard to keep Marius from looking behind the screen; she could say that she had her undergarments over there and he'd blush like a school boy and keep away from it like the plague.

"He can come in!" Eponine said.

"Are you decent?" Marius asked.

Eponine rolled her eyes. Oh yes, keeping Marius away from the screen should be no trouble at all.

"I am fully clothed, Marius," Eponine replied.

The door cracked open and Marius entered, a bright smile on his face.

"You did wonderfully, 'Ponine! You stunned everyone in the audience!" Marius exclaimed.

Eponine just smiled.

"I'd ask you who your teacher was, but I have a feeling that you wouldn't tell me," Marius said.

"He just prefers to be kept anonymous," Eponine said, shrugging. She had to keep her eyes from wandering over to the screen.

"Right. Well, I have someone who'd like to see you," Marius said, opening the door a little wider, Cosette stepping into the room.

The lark seemed to have undergone similar changes that Christine had, looking older and wiser, a happy glow around her face and a slight bulge to her stomach. Mon dieu, did every married woman get pregnant instantly?

"Oh, Eponine! It's so good to see you!" Cosette exclaimed, embracing the street waif.

Eponine stood there in shock. Cosette, happy to see her? That was a surprise, considering how awfully Cosette had been treated by Eponine and her sister as a child.

"You were amazing out there, 'Ponine! I wish I could sing and dance half as well as you!" Cosette said.

Eponine blinked. "Thank you. 'ow've you two ben?" Eponine asked.

"Oh, wonderful! I'm expecting!" Cosette exclaimed.

"Yes, Cosette and I will be starting a family soon, we've got a new house . . . ."

Eponine nodded, smiling. "I'm 'appy for you two,"

"And you've obviously been doing well! The lead soprano, who would've guessed?" Cosette exclaimed.

Eponine smiled. "It certainly wasn't what I was expecting,"

"And I see you've even got an admirer!" Cosette said, pointing to the rose in Eponine's hand.

Eponine looked down at the rose and had to keep herself from laughing. "Oh, no, this is from a friend, that's all,"

Cosette looked like she wanted to inquire further, but Marius laughed and put a hand on Cosette's arm. "Let it rest, Cosette. Let 'Ponine keep her secrets. If she doesn't want to tell you, she won't speak a word of it,"

Cosette nodded, and then her eyes brightened, looking over at Eponine. "Would you like to come with us to the ABC Café? It would be our treat!"

The mention of the old meeting place of the Les Amis ABC sent a pang through Eponine's heart, and she shook her head. Marius nodded knowingly, and then turned to Cosette. "I think we should leave 'Ponine now: she's had a long day, and she's going to need her rest for tommorrow's show,"

Cosette nodded and hugged Eponine again. "It really was wonderful to see you again," she said before letting her go. Marius walked up to Eponine and he put a hand on her upper arm, a familiar gesture. "I'm glad that you've found a better life, 'Ponine. I'll sleep easier knowing that there's no danger of you starving on the streets," he said before turning and walking out of the room with Cosette.

Eponine watched them leave, and she sighed when the door closed. It was nice to see them happy, but she couldn't help the ache she felt in her heart when Marius touched her shoulder, and said how her being safe was so essential to him. Over the past few months she had been wondering as to why she had ever been in love with Marius, but now she remembered: it was how much he cared. He had such a kind heart, he was the first person to ever give a damn about her. That's why she had fallen in love with him.

"I recognized that boy's voice: he's the one you almost died for at the barricades, isn't he?" Erik said, having appeared behind Eponine without her noticing. He was standing behind her right shoulder.

Eponine nodded.

"He was the one you were in love with, wasn't he?"

Again, Eponine nodded.

"You still are in love with him, aren't you?"

Eponine clenched her teeth, and she nodded again.

Eponine heard Erik take in a deep breath. "I see," he said.

Eponine sighed. "Not as much as I used to, but . . . . 'e was the first person to ever give a damn, the first person whom _I_ ever gave a damn about . . ."

"He'll always have a place in your heart," Erik whispered.

Eponine nodded.

Erik took in a deep breath. "I know what you mean,"

_Christine, of course,_ Eponine thought, feeling something in her twinge.

Erik put a hand on Eponine's shoulder, and she almost jumped in surprise. She turned her head to look at the Phantom, and he was staring back down at her with those intense eyes. Those eyes so full of sadness and hurt. That madness that Eponine had seen when she first met Erik was completely gone, and she liked to think that _she_ was the reason for that.

"Yes?" Eponine asked.

"I was once told by an incredibly brave and stubborn girl that I wasn't alone. I'd like to tell you the same thing," Erik said.

Eponine smiled up at him. "I know. I know I 'aven't been alone for a long time," Eponine replied.

Erik raised an eyebrow, and he slowly smiled. "When did you realize that?"

"I'm not sure, but I think it was when we became friends," Eponine said.

Erik smiled down at her. "I believe the same holds true for me,"

Eponine smiled.

Erik smiled back down, and he did something very un-Erik-like. He hugged her. He wrapped his arms around her and he _hugged_ her. Eponine stood there, stunned, and then she slowly hugged him back.

"You are by far a better student than Christine ever was. I value our time together more than I ever did with her," Erik whispered.

Eponine's eyes opened wide. Did he really just say that?

"I wouldn't trade our lessons for the world, my friend," Erik said.

_Friend_, Eponine thought. Why did she feel that slight twinge of disappointment when he said that?

Erik pulled back, and with his thumb he gently brushed back a piece of Eponine's hair from her forehead. "I'll let you finish getting out of costume: tomorrow is going to be tiring for you; you'll need your rest,"

Eponine blinked, and she nodded. "I'll see you in the morning," she said.

Erik nodded. "Sleep well," he said before exiting through the passage in the wall.

Eponine blinked, staring at the place in the wall where the door had been, then looking down at the rose still in her hand. She lifted it and gently sniffed the petals, smiling. Freshly cut. Eponine fondly fingered the black ribbon tied to the stem, a small smile on her face.

"_Mon_ ange," she whispered.

* * *

*holds out Punjab lasso to readers* You know you want to. DX Go ahead! Kill me for being an awful author and not updating in months when I used to update at least once a week! Go ahead! I'm putting my head on the chopping block! Go ahead and maim me to your heart's content! *whimpers*

I hope the slight E/E in this chappie made up for my absence.

Ah, who am I kidding, NOTHING CAN MAKE UP FOR HOW AWFUL I'VE BEEN TO YOU WONDERFUL READERS! DDDDDDDDDDDDX

~FantasticMisticalWonder (FMW/Wonder)

p.s. The song was Topsy Turvy from the Hunchback of Notre Dame


	22. Apology

Hey guys. I know, I don't update in a year and then I just update with an author's note. I'm a terrible person, flame all you want, I just wanted to let you guys know what the deal is.

So, last year, my school year was more trying than usual, and it took up all my time and energy, and I had no time for writing of any sort. So I didn't update. I know, usual excuses. HOWEVER. I WILL be working on Alliances, Logic and Magic, There and Back Again, and When An Eagle Meets a Swan very soon!

. . . notice how I didn't say UPDATE.

As of right now, WAEMAS is the only one that will be getting updates, Alliances, LAM, and TABA will all be going through major REWRITES. Why? Well, I read back, thought that the previous chapters sucked, and also saw quite a few inaccuracies with canon, due to me being scatter-brained.

So, what will most likely happen is you won't see any activity on those stories for a while until I update them all up to their current points, and then I will resubmit all the chapters.

Another reason for my doing this is that I'm going to try to be more organized with my stories, as I really have no idea where some of them are going, and I want to fix that.

Notice how Point of No Return wasn't mentioned up there. I WILL be updating on that one, but I am actually contemplating on re-writing a few chapters within that, but not making it go through such a dramatic re-write as Logic and Magic and Alliances will be going through. Most likely though, you will be seeing updates on that one.

And for those who are wanting a sequel to Old Friends and No Rules, sorry, but those are going to have to wait until I can loosen up the load on my plate at the moment. I MIGHT post a one-shot sort of sequel to No Rules though, depending on how I feel. Those of you who are big fans of Doctor Who will be liking that one-shot.

Again, I'm so sorry for the wait. Also, sorry to those who I promised one-shots to, or promised to use their OCs in the stories. I can't promise if I'll be able to include them or not. I realize now that was a rather unprofessional and unwise move on my part, and I apologize.

So, that's about it. I'm not dead (yet!), I'll be updating When An Eagle Meets a Swan (and POSSIBLY There and Back Again, as that one isn't as bad as the other two), and will be working on re-writes for Logic and Magic and Alliances.

Thank you all for being so patient!

~The Sophster


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